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THE   CONVICTIONS    OF 
CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 


The  Convictions  of 
Christopher  Sterling 

A  Novel 

BY 

HAROLD  BEGBIE 


"It  should  be  the  aim  of  a  wise  man  neither  to  mock,  nor  to 
bewail,  nor  to  denounce  men's  actions  but  to  understand  them." 

—Spinoza. 


NEW  YORK 
Robert    M.   McBride    ^  Company 
1919 


Copyright,  19 19 

by 

ROBERT  M.  McERIDE    &  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America, 


Published  May,  1919 


9i- 
CONTENTS        B'r 

PART  I 
THAT  WHICH  WENT  BEFORE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — The  End  of  a  Journey      .         .         .  i 

II. — The  Eyes  of  the  Dead      .         .         .  i6 

III. — Christopher's  Telegram           -.         .  34 

IV. — The  Announcement  of  His  Experiment    39 

V. — Mrs.  Sterling  Becomes  Anxious       .  46 

VI. — Christopher  Begins  To  Tell     .         .  53 

VII.— Jane  Foyle 68 

VIII. — Christopher  Proposes      ...  83 

IX. — The  Last  Appeal      ....  92 

PART  II 

THAT   WHICH  CAME  AFTER 

I. — Mr.  Sterling's  Point  of  View          .  109 

II. — The  Trumpets  fo  War      .         .         .118 

III. — Helping  the  Enemy          .         .         .  131 

IV. — Family  Differences          .         .         .  145 

V 


4e4GS7 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

V. — Two  Moralities        .         .         .         .151 

VI. — The  Tragedy  of  Mr.  Pommer          .  166 

VII. — A  Strategic  Engagement          .         .  174 

VIII. — The  Madness  of  Christopher          .  181 

IX. — Plain    Clothes         .         .         .         .  i95 

X. — Handed  Over            ....  207 

XI. — The  Power  of  Despotism          .         .  226 

XII.— Last  Words 241 

XIII.— The  Wonder  That  Remained  .         .  251 


yi 


PREFACE 

Having  to  overcome  one's  human  feelings 
for  the  sake  of  the  Fatherland  is  the 
horrible  in  War,  hut  in  that  lies  its  greatness. 
Its  sublime  majesty  consists  just  in  this, 
that  in  War  one  murders  without  passion. 
The  German  Treitschke. 

That  it  may  please  Thee  to  preserve  all 
that  travel  by  land  or  by  water,  all  wom^n 
laboring  of  child,  all  sick  persons  and  young 
children,   and   to   show   Thy  pity  upon  all 

prisoners  and  captives 

The  English  Liturgy. 


VIJ 


AUTHOR'S    PREFACE 

AT  no  time  in  my  life,  if  the  reader  will  allow  me 
to  make  a  personal  statement,  have  I  held  those 
difficult  principles  which  govern  the  Quaker  in  his 
attitude  to  War.  Moreover,  such  is  the  character  of 
my  feeling  for  England  that  I  have  never  been  able 
to  contemplate  the  noble  ideal  of  internationalism 
without  some  measure  of  distrust,  so  sharp  is  my  fear 
that  British  nationalism,  which  after  all  is  simply  the 
political  expression  of  British  character,  may  suffer 
hurt  in  the  processes  of  any  such  fusion. 

This  being  my  natural  disposition,  from  childhood 
up  I  have  hated  all  forms  of  despotism,  feeling  this 
instinctive  hatred  to  be  the  island  center  of  my  English- 
ness.  The  least  act  of  tyranny,  and  in  particular  petty 
tyranny,  has  ever  moved  me,  in  spite  of  all  my  many 
moral  shortcomings,  to  immediate  anger. 

Therefore  when  I  heard  in  the  winter  of  191 7  that 
Quakers  and  Tolstoyans,  because  of  their  resistance 
to  military  service,  were  being  treated  with  a  cowardly 
and  shameful  rigor  by  our  British  authorities,  it  was 
a  natural  instinct  with  me,  although  I  had  assisted  the 
Government  to  get  men  to  the  Colors,  and  although  I 
was  entirely  convinced  that  Germany  must  be  defeated 
in  the  field  before  Prussianism  could  be  destroyed  in 
Europe,  to  attempt  a  protest. 

IX 


PREFACE 

I  made  myself  master  of  the  facts,  and  then,  as  soon 
as  possible  took  impulsive  steps  which  might  lead,  as  I 
hoped,  to  the  removal  of  this  detestable  reproach  from 
our  English  name.  Those  steps,  however,  brought  me 
at  once  to  a  dead  wall.  I  could  find  no  newspaper,  not 
even  the  most  Liberal,  not  even  those  which  had  been 
accused  of  pro-Germanism,  to  publish  my  protest.  I 
called  that  protest  *The  Mouse  in  Chains."  Editors 
wrote  kind,  friendly,  even  sympathetic  letters,  but  ex- 
pressed various  reasons  for  not  helping  in  this  partic- 
ular way  to  rid  the  mouse  of  its  chains.  I  published 
an  appeal  to  working  men  in  the  pages  of  The  Herald, 
I  signed  powerful  petitions  to  the  Prime  Minister,  and 
from  time  to  time  wrote  letters  to  eminent  men  among 
my  acquaintance ;  nothing  came  of  these  efforts. 

It  occurred  to  me,  meditating  on  this  failure  to  re- 
lieve human  suffering,  and  haunted  by  the  knowledge 
that  men  whose  shoelaces  I  was  unworthy  to  tie,  lay 
at  the  point  of  madness  and  death  in  our  cruel  prisons, 
that  it  would  be  some  service,  however  indirect  and 
small,  to  set  forth  the  antithetical  ideals  of  nationalism 
and  religion  in  the  form  of  a  story.  I  hoped  in  this 
way  not  only  to  secure  humaner  treatment  for  the 
realistic  Christians  in  jail,  and  not  only  to  strike  a  blow 
for  the  reform  of  our  mechanical  prison  system,  but 
perhaps  to  feel  my  way  from  a  nationalism  which  could 
not  safely  be  religious  to  a  religion  which  might  pre- 
serve the  great  sanctities  of  nationalism. 

The  story,  thus  suggested,  formed  itself  in  my  mind 
as  a  study  in  contrast.    I  conceived  the  idea  of  taking 

X 


PREFACE 


two  brothers  who  should  represent  ideal  patriotism  and 
ideal  religion.  There  should  be  in  the  book  sugges- 
tions of  materialistic  patriotism  and  of  compromising 
religion,  but  the  central  contrast  should  be  in  the  clear 
and  resilient  air  of  the  ideal. 

One  of  my  protagonists  was  to  express  some  such 
resplendent  passion  for  England  as  inspired  Rupert 
Brooke:  the  other,  some  such  reverence  for  the  letter 
and  spirit  of  Christ  as  inspired  the  great  Saint  of 
Assisi.  I  determined  to  hold  with  a  steady  hand  the 
balance  between  these  two  temperaments.  I  would 
neither  exalt  the  patriot  nor  denounce  the  Quaker. 
My  novel  should  not  be  marred,  one  way  or  the  other, 
by  the  destroying  spirit  of  propaganda.  The  honesty 
of  my  own  agnosticism  would  preserve  me,  I  hoped, 
from  any  shadow  of  dogmatism.  Nevertheless, 
throughout  the  pages  of  this  little  book  should  breathe, 
if  I  was  true  to  myself,  such  a  spirit  of  liberty  as 
would  surely  make  the  most  implacable  enemy  of 
Prussia  as  deeply  ashamed  of  ill-treating  a  Quaker  in 
an  English  jail  as  he  was  burning  with  disgust  against 
our  ruthless  enemy  for  the  ill-treatment  of  British 
soldiers  in  German  prison  camps. 

So  my  tale  was  written. 


XI 


^ 


PART  I 

THAT  WHICH  WENT  BEFORE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  END  OF  A  JOTJRNEY 


ONE  winter's  evening,  early  in  the  present  century, 
a  two-wheeled  carrier's  cart  turned  in  at  the 
stables  of  a  shabby  tavern  in  Calais.  It  was  one  of  those 
vehicles  which  you  still  see  on  the  country  roads  of 
Europe  going  from  the  village  to  the  market-town, 
sometimes  with  a  netted  calf  or  a  pig  at  the  back,  high 
wheeled,  heavily  timbered,  badly  hung,  with  long  rigid 
shafts,  and  pulled  usually  by  some  stout  old  horse, 
good-looking  enough,  but  which  has  forgotten  how  to 
trot. 

WDn  the  seat  of  this  cart  were  two  men  muffled  up 
their  top-coats,  with  a  rug  over  their  knees,  which 
was  heavy  with  snow.  One  of  these  men  was  a  French 
peasant  from  the  neighborhood  6i  Bergues,  who  made 
a  little  extra  money  as  a  carrier ;  the  other  was  a  young 
Englishman  on  his  way  home  after  two  years*  wander- 
ing on  the  Continent. 

"It's  a  rough  house,  as  I  warned  you,"  said  the 
driver,  lifting  his  chin  above  the  collar  of  his  coat  after 


^,. : : .:  J  ;  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

..b& had  pylllsd  up  the  horse  in  the  dark  yard  of  the  inn. 
•*    ** 'If  Will'  serve,"  replied  the  other. 

"Well,  that  is  for  you." 

The  yard  would  have  been  as  black  as  pitch  but  for 
the  smoky  lamps  of  the  cart  and  a  blood-red  patch  of 
light  in  a  glass-paneled  door  at  the  side  of  the  inn. 
Outside  on  the  cobble-stones  of  the  narrow  street  the 
snow  was  churned  up  into  a  yellow  mass,  but  here  in 
the  shelter  of  this  ill-smelling  yard  it  lay  smooth  and 
deep,  shining  with  a  wonderful  purity.  From  the 
stables  came  the  stamping  of  horses'  feet  and  the  rattle 
of  rack  chains;  from  the  inn,  the  subdued  sound  of 
human  voices ;  from  the  street  outside,  the  roar  of  the 
deep  sea  swinging  under  a  savage  wind  and  a  flurry 
of  snowflakes. 

The  carrier  got  down  from  the  cart,  taking  the  rug 
with  him,  which  he  flung  over  his  horse's  back.  The 
horse  let  its  head  fall,  and  began  to  snuff  at  the  snow. 

"I'll  see  if  they  have  a  bed,"  remarked  the  carrier, 
dragging  the  horse  into  greater  shelter.  *Tf  not,  there's 
another  house  up  the  street."  He  walked  towards  the 
inn,  unfastening  his  coat. 

The  young  Englishman  stood  at  the  horse's  head, 
holding  his  bag  and  his  stick  in  one  hand,  stroking  the 
animal's  nose  with  the  other,  while  the  carrier,  after 
kicking  off  the  snow  from  his  boots,  mounted  the  three 
steps  to  the  glass-paneled  door  through  whose  scarlet 
curtain  the  light  within  shone  upon  the  yard.  This 
door  led  straight  into  the  kitchen,  and  directly  the  car- 


THE  END  OF  A  JOURNEY  3 

rier  opened  it  there  came  to  the  yard  a  loud  clatter  of 
pots  and  pans,  a  din  of  voices,  and  the  rich  smells  of 
animal  flesh  sizzling  in  oil. 

"Have  you  a  bed  for  to-night?"  asked  the  carrier, 
standing  in  the  door.  "It  is  not  for  me,"  he  hastened 
to  explain;  "but  for  a  stranger  I  picked  up  on  the 
road." 

The  landlord,  who  was  reading  a  newspaper  at  the 
table,  looked  towards  his  wife  busy  at  the  fire.  "Yes, 
we  have  a  bed,"  she  answered,  turning  her  head  but 
continuing  to  stir  a  pot  on  the  fire ;  "it's  in  the  same 
room  as  this  gentleman's,  if  he  has  no  objection."  She 
indicated  by  a  backward  nod  of  her  head  a  stout  Ger- 
man seated  at  the  table  before  a  bowl  of  soup. 

"I  have  no  objection,"  said  the  German. 

»The  carrier  withdrew,  shutting  the  door  behind  him. 
"There  is  a  bed  for  you,"  he  said,  coming  into  the 
yard,  "and  supper  is  cooking  on  the  fire;  you  had 
better  go  in  and  get  warm." 

"When  we  have  taken  out  your  horse,"  replied 
the  Englishman,  and  setting  down  his  bag  he  began 
unbuckling  the  straps  of  the  harness.  "It  was  kind 
of  you  to  give  me  a  lift,"  he  continued;  "and  I  hope 
you  will  be  my  guest  at  supper." 

"Oh,  as  for  that,  I  need  no  thanks,"  replied  the 
carrier,  rather  gruffly ;  "and  I  must  say  that  you  made 
the  miles  fly  pretty  quick  with  your  talk.  It  would  have 
been  longer  and  colder  without  you,  that's  a  certainty." 

By  the  light  of  one  of  his  lamps  the  carrier  found 


4  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

an  empty  stall  for  his  horse,  and  after  making  him 
fast  to  the  rack,  he  bade  the  Englishman  go  into  the 
inn  and  prepare  for  supper  while  he  saw  to  the  feeding 
of  his  animal. 

The  Englishman  crossed  %  the  yard,  mounted  the 
steps,  and  entered  the  kitchen  of  the  inn.  This 
kitchen,  full  of  tobacco  smoke  and  steam  from  the 
pots  on  the  fire,  was  low  ceiled,  with  rough  worm- 
eaten  rafters  which  had  been  whitewashed,  and  with 
a  floor  of  cement  broken  in  many  places  and  every- 
where splashed  and  stained.  There  were  several  doors 
such  as  you  might  find  in  a  fowlhouse  leading  from 
this  kitchen  to  other  parts  of  the  house:  one  to  the 
scullery,  where  taps  were  dripping  into  the  sink  and 
a  slatternly  girl  was  hard  at  work  washing  plates  and 
dishes,  one  to  the  bar  of  the  inn,  one  to  the  larder, 
and  one  upstairs  to  the  bedrooms. 

The  landlord,  looking  up  from  his  newspaper,  ap- 
peared to  be  much  surprised  by  the  character  of  the 
guest,  lowering  the  paper  quietly,  narrowing  his  eyes, 
and  staring  at  this  young  stranger  with  a  heavy  curi- 
osity. His  wife,  turning  her  head  from  the  pots  and 
pans  on  the  fire,  also  seemed  surprised  by  the  quality 
of  their  guest,  for  after  frowning  upon  him  some 
moments,  she  told  her  husband  to  get  a  candle  and  take 
the  gentleman  to  his  room. 

In  spite  of  his  clothes,  which  were  of  a  rough  char- 
acter and  exceedingly  worn,  it  was  impossible  to 
mistake  this  young  Englishman  for  one  of  the  usual 


THE  END  OF  A  JOURNEY  5 

patrons  of  the  inn.  There  was  something  so  hand- 
some in  his  appearance,  something  so  distinguished 
in  his  manner,  and  something  so  refined  and  gentle 
in  his  voice,  that  every  one  in  the  kitchen  was  instantly 
aware  of  a  new  event,  conscious  as  it  were  of  an 
adventure.  What  strange  fate,  they  asked  themselves, 
had  brought  this  handsome  young  man  to  such  a 
hostelry  ? 

When  he  had  gone  from  the  kitchen,  following 
the  slippered  landlord  up  the  stairs,  a  fisherman  smok- 
ing his  pipe  on  a  bench  by  the  wall  exclaimed  to  a 
neighbor  that  the  foreigner  was  evidently  an  English- 
man. 

**So  long  as  he  pays,"  said  the  other,  "what  does 
it  matter?" 

**We  want  no  English  here,"  said  the  landlord's 
wife;  "they  are  a  race  of  thieves  and  hypocrites.  But 
this  gentleman  is  an  Austrian.  I  can  tell  by  his 
accent." 

"By  his  accent !"  said  the  German  at  the  table.  "But 
he  spoke  French  like  a  Parisian." 

"If  he  is  not  an  Austrian,  he  is  a  Russian,"  said 
the  woman. 

The  door  opened  and  the  carrier  entered. 

"It  is  cold,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands.  "And  it 
snows  like  the  devil.    Where  is  the  stranger?" 

"He  will  be  here  soon,"  replied  the  woman.  "How 
is  your  wife?" 

"She  is  still  no  better.     The  doctor  says  I  should 


6  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

take  her  to  Paris,  but  that  means  a  lot  of  money,  and 
what  is  to  become  of  the  children  in  the  meanwhile?" 

"Just  so,"  said  the  woman. 

After  some  gossip  about  the  village  from  which 
he  had  come,  the  woman  asked  the  carrier  to  tell  her 
what  he  knew  of  the  stranger  he  had  brought  with 
him. 

"He  is  a  wonderful  man,  this  EngHshman,"  began 
the  carrier. 

"English!"  exclaimed  the  woman,  turning  sharply 
about,  a  spoon  in  her  hand  dripping  on  to  the  cement 
floor. 

"What  did  I  say?"  demanded  the  fisherman,  shift- 
ing proudly  on  the  bench. 

"From  the  moment  I  picked  him  up  till  the  snow 
came  down  and  made  talking  impossible,"  continued 
the  carrier,  stretching  his  hands  over  the  fire,  "he  has 
told  me  such  tales  as  never  I  heard — tales  of  the 
wonders  of  the  world,  of  what  the  surgeons  can  do 
with  the  inside  of  a  man's  body,  and  of  what  electricity 
can  do  with  machines,  and  how  the  Christians  in 
Armenia  are  butchered  by  the  Turks,  and  how  the 
Serbian  women  work  in  the  fields,  and  about  the 
happy  life  people  live  in  Bohemia.  He  has  seen  much, 
this  gentleman,  and  I  should  say  he  was  a  great  scholar 
into  the  bargain." 

"Still  he  is  English,"  objected  the  woman. 

"Oh,  they  are  not  all  bad,  these  English,"  said  the 
fisherman* 


THE  END  OF  A  JOURNEY  7 

"The  English,"  said  the  German,  "are  the  greatest 
people  in  the  world.    I  too  am  English." 

"What!"  cried  the  woman,  turning  about.     "You, 
English?    I  know  better.    You  are  a  German." 

The  German  smiled,  pushing  his  soup  plate  away, 
and  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand.    "I 
was  bom  in  Germany,"  he  said,  "but  I  make  my  living 
in  England,  and  now  I  am  going  to  be  English  always." 
At  this  point  the  landlord  returned  to  the  kitchen. 
"That  is  a  pleasant  gentleman,"  he  remarked.    "In 
my  young  days  I  entertained  many  such.     I  love  a 
man  with  fine  manners  and  a  gentle  voice." 
"He  is  English,"  said  his  wife. 
"What!"    The  landlord  stood,  transfixed.    He  was 
a  corpulent,  round-shouldered  man,  with  a  troubled 
red  face,  protuberant  sad  eyes,  and  a  ferocious  mus- 
tache.   His  hair  stuck  up  and  hung  forward  over  his 
forehead. 
"The  carrier  has  told  me,"  said  his  wife. 
The  landlord  spat  on  the  floor.     "Blast  him!  if  I 
had  known  it  he  should  have  found  his  own  way  to 
his  bed.    English !    Who  would  have  thought  it  ?" 

"He'll  pay  fair  and  square,  what  does  it  matter?" 
demanded  the  fisherman. 

"Matter!"  cried  the  landlord;  "it  matters  to  me 
because  I  love  my  country.  These  English  are  the 
enemies  of  France.  They  hate  us.  Listen  what  their 
papers  say."  He  marched  over  to  the  table,  snorting, 
took  up  his  journal,  turned  the  sheets  over,  and  pres- 


I 


8  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

ently  began  to  read.  "This  is  what  one  of  their  news- 
papers says  in  London :  Trance  shall  be  rolled  in  mud 
and  blood/  Curse  them,  that  is  how  they  speak  of 
us — in  mud  and  blood!  *Her  colonies  shall  be  taken 
from  her  and  given  to  the  Germans.'  Do  you  see? — 
they  will  steal  our  colonies.  They  hate  us  and  would 
have  us  ruined.  We  are  to  be  rolled  in  mud  and 
blood,  and  we  are  to  be  brought  to  beggary.  Why? 
Because  we  wish  to  manage  our  own  affairs  without 
interference  from  England,  and  because  we  do  not 
keep  our  mouths  shut  when  she  is  murdering  the 
Boers.    The  swine!" 

"Ah,  they  are  hateful,  these  English !"  said  the  land- 
lord's wife.  "And  you,"  she  added,  addressing  the 
German,  "would  become  one  of  them!" 

"But  you  are  German,"  said  the  landlord. 

At  this  point  the  Englishman  entered  the  kitchen. 
He  was  tall,  well-knit,  and  held  himself  with  an  easy 
grace,  free  of  all  stiffness.  The  handsomeness  of  his 
face  came  from  a  combination  of  singularly  good 
features  and  serious  intellectual  capacity,  molded  into 
a  very  attractive  pleasantness  by  the  gracious  modesty 
of  his  spirit.  He  had  a  quantity  of  dark  brown  hair, 
which  was  brushed  back  from  his  forehead  and  rip- 
pled at  every  inch  or  two,  catching  light  and  shining 
richly.  He  was  clean-shaven.  His  eyes  were  large 
and  dark,  burning  with  a  wonderful  lustre  under 
straight  brows.  There  was  a  certain  element  of 
weakness  in  his  mouth,  which  was  too  pretty  for  man- 


THE  END  OF  A  JOURNEY  9 

fulness;  and  his  chin,  though  strong  enough,  was  en- 
tirely lacking  in  force.  His  face  was  the  face  of  a 
youth  who  had  been  sheltered  and  protected  from 
childhood  and  was  now  finding  his  own  way  across 
the  frontier  of  manhood. 

An  awkward  silence  greeted  his  entrance  into  the 
kitchen,  and  he  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  looking  about  him.  Then,  setting  down  his 
candle  on  the  dresser,  he  crossed  the  room  to  where 
the  carrier  was  seated,  and  said  to  him :  "We  are  to 
eat  together,  and  I  expect  you  are  as  ready  as  I  am 
for  a  good  supper." 

"Yes,  I  am  hungry,"  said  the  carrier. 

The  German,  who  was  making  a  great  noise  eating  a 
ragout,  said  to  the  Englishman :  "We  share  the  same 
room.    I  have  no  objection." 

The  Englishman  smiled,  and  made  a  little  bow. 

"I  have  buried  my  mother,"  said  the  German,  "and 
to-morrow  I  go  home.    I  also  am  English." 

"Then  we  shall  travel  together." 

"I  live  in  Walworth.  I  have  a  fine  shop  there.  By 
trade  I  am  a  baker.  All  my  children  are  fine  and 
trong.    They  too  are  English." 

"Indeed." 

"I  was  born  a  German,  but  now  I  am  English." 

"You  prefer  the  life  of  England?" 

"Because  I  am  a  democrat.     England  is  a  good 

mntry  for  free  people.  It  is  a  country  where  he 
tho  works  hard  may  enjoy  what  he  earns.    I  would 


10  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

not  go  back  to  Germany  for  anything  in  the  world." 

"And  yet  there  are  very  kind  people  in  Germany, 
who  are  quite  happy?" 

"Yes,  but  they  are  not  free.  I  must  be  free  or  I 
should  die.  In  Germany  the  common  people  are 
better  educated  than  they  are  with  us  in  England; 
they  have  more  self-respect ;  they  are  cleaner  in  their 
habits;  but  they  are  very  poor — ^the  Government  is 
their  master,  and  they  are  not  free.  I  was  born  a 
German,  but  I  shall  die  an  Englishman." 

This  conversation,  unintelligible  to  the  other  people 
in  the  kitchen,  gave  an  increasing  offence  to  the  land- 
lord and  his  wife,  who,  although  they  could  not  under- 
stand a  word  of  it,  objected  strongly  to  the  sound  of 
English  in  their  kitchen. 

"You  English,"  said  the  landlord,  "had  better  be 
careful  what  you  are  about." 

This  remark  was  addressed  rather  to  the  French 
people  in  the  kitchen  than  to  the  young  Englishman, 
for  the  landlord  in  making  it  looked  from  the  fisher- 
men to  his  wife,  and  from  his  wife  to  the  fishermen, 
opening  the  newspaper  as  he  made  it  and  smacking 
the  sheet  with  the  back  of  his  hand.  "We  French- 
men," he  continued,  more  truculently,  "do  not  like 
insults.    When  we  are  insulted,  we  get  angry." 

The  young  Englishman,  who  did  not  seem  to  be  in 
the  least  perplexed  by  this  sudden  onslaught,  said  to 
the  landlord,  "You  have  read  something  in  the  news- 
paper which  has  made  you  indignant?" 


THE  END  OF  A  JOURNEY  ii 

The  landlord  passed  him  the  paper,  pointing  with 
his  finger  to  the  quotation  from  a  London  journal: 
"You  are  being  beaten  by  the  Boers  in  South  Africa, 
a  little  nation  of  farmers,  and  yet  that  is  how  you 
dare  to  speak  of  France,"  he  said,  getting  up,  and 
walking  to  the  fire.  He  stood  beside  his  wife,  glaring 
at  the  Englishman. 

"If  we  had  known  you  were  English,"  said  his  wife, 
"there'd  have  been  no  bed  for  you  here,  I  can  tell  you 
that." 

"This  is  horrible,"  said  the  Englishman,  putting  the 
paper  aside.  "I  am  sorry  that  any  of  the  least  of  my 
countrymen  should  write  so  vilely.  I  can  understand 
your  feelings.  Indeed,  if  after  reading  such  a  gross 
insult  as  this  you  feel  that  my  presence  here  is  un- 
welcome to  you,  I  will  go  away.  I  perfectly  under- 
stand that  you  must  resent  my  presence  at  your  table." 

These  words,  delivered  in  the  most  perfect  French, 
and  with  an  obvious  and  deep  sincerity,  produced  an 
instant  change  in  the  landlord's  wife.  "You  need  not 
go,"  she  said;  "for  I  can  see  you  are  different  from 
some  others,  but  we  do  not  like  being  talked  to  like 
that,  as  you  can  imagine."  She  told  the  landlord  to 
get  some  bread  for  their  guests,  and  herself  carried 
the  pot  of  soup  to  the  table. 

"To  be  told,"  expostulated  the  landlord,  coming  to 
the  table  with  a  yard  of  bread  in  his  hand,  "that  we 
are  to  be  rolled  in  mud  and  blood,  and  that  our  col- 
onies are  to  be  torn  from  us — this  is  more  than  an 


12  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

insult ;  it  is  a  threat,  and  our  Government  must  answer 
it."  He  banged  down  the  bread  on  the  table,  and 
walked  back  to  the  fire,  snorting. 

"It  is  journalists  who  make  wars,"  said  his  wife. 

"I  say  it  is  a  threat  I"  continued  her  husband.  "We 
are  to  be  rolled  in  mud  and  blood.  We  Frenchmen 
are  to  be  knocked  down,  and  our  colonies  stolen  from 
us.  What  is  that  but  a  threat?  That  is  how  English- 
men speak  of  France  in  London.  And  in  Africa,  their 
army  is  being  smashed  up  by  brave  little  Boer  people." 

"Vou  must  consider,"  said  the  Englishman,  "that 
what  is  written  in  that  paper  is  one  man's  opinion, 
and  you  must  assure  yourselves  that  in  England  there 
are  many  who  love  France  and  who  reverence  her 
genius  and  who  are  just  as  indignant  as  you  are, 
justly  indignant,  at  such  horrible  sentiments  so  vilely 
expressed." 

The  carrier  said  that  he  had  met  very  few  English- 
men, but  did  not  doubt  that  some  of  them  were 
friendly  and  civilized.  The  landlord's  wife  repeated 
her  opinion  that  wars  were  made  by  journalists,  add- 
ing that  she  could  wish  all  newspapers  were  under 
the  control  of  Governments.  Under  his  breath  the 
German  baker  said  to  the  young  Englishman,  "These 
French  chatter  like  so  many  monkeys ;  take  no  notice 
of  them." 

The  landlord,  however,  was  in  a  fighting  mood,  and 
no  civility  on  the  part  of  the  Englishman  could  sub- 
due his  annoyance.     He  sat  down  at  the  table  and 


I 


THE  END  OF  A  JOURNEY  13 


began  a  long  tirade  against  England,  declaring  that 
all  her  colonies  had  been  gained  by  stealing;  that  her 
wealth  was  the  wealth  of  piracy  and  murder;  that 
she  had  always  been  the  enemy  of  little  nations ;  that 
she  had  ever  set  the  great  nations  by  the  ears  in  order 
to  save  herself  from  rivals;  that  she  had  no  real 
friends  in  the  world,  and  but  for  her  navy  would  be 
fallen  upon  by  the  nations  and  punished  for  her 
crimes. 

From  this  he  went  to  the  Dreyfus  case,  justifying 
the  action  of  France  and  denouncing  England  for 
daring  to  interfere  in  a  matter  which  belonged  to 
France  and  to  France  alone.  When  he  had  satisfied 
himself  on  this  head  he  opened  fire  on  the  subject 
of  the  Boer  War,  charging  England  with  hypocrisy 
and  cowardice  in  that  attack  upon  the  liberties  of  a 
peaceful  people,  declaring  hotly  that  but  for  the  gold 
in  the  Transvaal  there  would  have  been  no  war. 

By  this  time  the  kitchen  had  filled  up  with  a  number 
of  rather  rough-looking  men  who  sat  about  smoking 
and  drinking,  their  fierce  eyes  bent  upon  the  young 
Englishman,  their  anger  stirred  up  and  their  patriotism 
gratified  by  the  eloquence  of  the  landlord.  There  were 
loud  murmurs  of  approval  whenever  the  landlord 
threatened  that  France  must  take  up  this  latest  chal- 
lenge of  the  pirate  England  that  their  beautiful  coun- 
try was  to  be  rolled  in  mud  and  blood  and  her  colonies 
taken  from  her. 

All  this  time  the  German  kept  whispering  into  the 


14  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

ear  of  the  Englishman  that  these  people  were  very 
bad-mannered  and  extremely  ignorant,  saying  that 
England  was  the  greatest  country  in  the  world  and 
that  her  greatness  made  these  degenerate  Latins  jeal- 
ous. 'Take  no  notice  of  them,"  he  kept  repeating; 
"they  are  ignorant,  and  a  Frenchman  must  talk  or 
e^fplode." 

Every  now  and  then  an  expression  of  such  deep 
melancholy  passed  across  the  Englishman's  face  that 
the  landlord's  wife,  regarding  him  from  a  chair  be- 
side the  fire-place,  concluded  he  must  be  in  love.  She 
ceased  to  think  of  him  as  a  politician  or  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  hated  and  perfidious  Albion.  Her 
woman's  nature  asserted  itself  and  she  thought  to  her- 
self that  he  was  wonderfully  handsome,  as  romantic 
looking  as  Byron,  and  that  some  girl  in  England  was 
breaking  his  heart. 

Of  a  sudden,  getting  up  from  her  chair,  she  ex- 
claimed angrily  to  her  husband,  "Oh!  what  a  row 
ycu  are  making,  with  your  politics.  A  fine  passion 
you  are  in,  to  be  sure.  And  what  good  comes  of  all 
this  talk?  Let  us  have  a  song,  if  only  to  cool  your 
blood  before  you  go  to  bed.  This  gentleman  is  very 
polite  and  must  think  you  are  a  brigand  to  go  on  as 
you  do.    Come,  Jean,  give  us  a  song." 

The  man  she  addressed  as  Jean  was  sitting  at  the 
table  with  a  glass  of  white  wine  before  him.  He  threw 
back  his  head  at  her  invitation,  and  said  with  a  dra- 
matic gesture,  "Well,  let  us  sing  the  Marseillaise,  if 


r 


THE  END  OF  A  JOURNEY  15 


ony  to  cheer  us  up  before  this  young  gentleman  pro- 
ceeds to  roll  us  all  in  mud  and  blood." 

There  was  laughter  at  this,  and  the  Englishman, 
turning  to  the  speaker,  said  to  him  very  agreeably,  "I 
hope  you  will  allow  me  to  join  in,  for  I  love  that  fine 
song  of  yours.  It  belongs  to  all  who  want  a  good 
world." 

This  remark  put  everybody  into  a  better  mood,  and 
by  the  time  the  song  was  finished  even  the  landlord  felt 
more  pleasantly  disposed  towards  the  stranger,  so 
heartily  had  he  sung  the  song. 

When  he  rose  to  go  upstairs  to  his  bed,  the  slattern 
of  the  scullery  hurried  to  light  his  candle  for  him,  and 
every  one  in  the  kitchen  was  pleased  because  he  went 
round  the  room  shaking  hands  with  them. 

At  the  door  of  the  staircase,  candle  in  hand,  he 
turned  and  addressed  the  whole  room:  "What  fools 
men  are,"  he  said,  with  a  boyish  smile  which  was  in 
odd  contrast  to  the  grave  tone  of  his  voice,  "not  to 
realize  that  they  are  brothers.  Your  Marseillaise  is 
not  the  battle  song  of  France  but  the  marching  music 
of  all  humanity.  Good-night  my  comrades;  a  better 
~)rldtoallof  us!" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD 

44\17HEN  I  buried  my  mother,"  said  the  German 
▼  ▼  next  morning,  "I  buried  my  Germanism.  At 
the  grave  of  that  dear  old  woman  the  tears  burst  into 
my  eyes  and  rolled  down  my  cheeks  into  my  beard,  a 
sob  rose  from  my  heart  and  broke  from  my  lips ;  for  I 
was  thinking  of  how  she  had  once  been  buxom  and 
young,  and  had  carried  me  in  her  arms,  and  had  fed 
me  at  her  breast — this  white-haired,  shriveled,  and 
bent-up  old  dame  who  was  now  dead,  nailed  up  in  a 
coffin,  and  slid  down  into  the  sandy  earth,  there  to  lie 
for  evermore,  one  of  thousands  of  millions.  Yes,  I 
wept  at  the  grave,  and  my  relations  led  me  away  after- 
wards, with  their  hands  pressing  my  arms.  But  I 
thought  to  myself  when  the  paroxysm  was  over,  and 
every  man  must  weep  at  the  grave  of  his  mother  if 
he  has  a  heart  in  his  bosom,  I  thought  to  myself,  *Good ! 
no  more  am  I  a  German :  this  is  the  end :  I  have  buried 
my  birth  and  afterwards  for  ever  I  am  born  again,  an 
Englishman.' " 

He  was   full  of  excitement  and  pleasure  at  the 
thought  of  returning  home  to  his  shop  and  his  children. 

i6 


I 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  17 


On  the  boat  he  paced  to  and  fro,  blowing  out  his  chest, 
laughing  at  those  ridiculous  Frenchmen  of  the  tavern 
who  had  dared  to  abuse  England,  boasting  of  the  great 
British  Navy,  and  at  the  first  sight  of  the  cliffs  of 
Dover  bursting  out  with  a  paean  of  patriotism.  But 
most  of  all  he  talked  about  his  own  little  home  in  Wal- 
worth, where  he  felt  himself  to  be  a  king.  He  told  his 
companion  every  detail  of  his  family  life,  and  gave 
him  a  long  account  of  his  own  history.  This  German, 
whose  name  was  Pommer,  like  most  of  his  country- 
men, was  a  sentimentalist,  and  he  showed  the  English- 
man the  photographs  of  his  children  which  he  carried 
about  with  him,  describing  each  one  with  enthusiasm, 
tenderness,  and  a  half-chaffing  pride. 

"As  for  my  wife,"  he  said,  "she  is  English;  and 
while  I  love  her,  as  every  husband  should  love  his  wife, 
I  see  that  she  is  not  so  capable  as  the  majority  of  those 
fat  German  women.  She  is  very  dear,  but  she  is  also 
very  stupid.  I  have  been  anxious  all  the  time  I  have 
been  away,  because  of  my  shop.  Even  at  the  grave  of 
my  mother  I  was  disturbed.  You  see,  my  wife  is  not 
clear  in  the  head.  She  makes  mistakes  with  the  orders  ; 
she  gives  wrong  change ;  she  cannot  add  up  the  books 
correctly ;  and  she  does  not  know  when  the  bakers  are 
spoiling  the  bread  and  the  cakes.  But  you  will  like 
her.  She  is  a  lady.  And  as  for  the  children,  she  takes 
such  pride  in  them  you  might  think  they  were  the  chil- 
dren of  the  Lord  Mayor.    You  must  come  and  see  us." 

When  these  two  travellers,  each  carrying  his  own 


i8  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

bag,  were  passing  up  the  train  at  Dover  looking  for 
seats  in  a  third-class  carriage,  a  man  who  was  settling 
with  a  porter  at  the  door  of  a  first-class  carnage,  see- 
ing the  young  Englishman  pass,  put  out  his  hand  and 
stopped  him.  "Surely,  you  are  Sterling  of  Balliol?" 
he  said  with  a  smile. 

The  Englishman  stopped.  "And  you,  of  course,  are 
Wentworth.    I  remember  you  very  well." 

They  spoke  for  a  few  minutes  together,  and  then 
Sterling  followed  after  the  German  baker,  while  Went- 
worth entered  his  carriage. 

"Who  is  that  odd-looking  bird  you  were  talking  to  ?'* 

Wentworth  laughed.  "I  hardly  recognized  him,"  he 
said  to  his  companion  who  had  asked  this  question. 
"You'd  never  guess,  would  you,  that  he's  the  heir  to 
old  Anthony  Sterling,  and  about  as  clever  a  fellow  as 
ever  took  a  First  at  Balliol?" 

"Anthony  Sterling  the  banker  ?" 

"Yes." 

"A  great  fellow.  I  honor  him  because  he  keeps  the 
flag  of  English  finance  flying  in  the  midst  of  Jewry. 
He's  the  Pierpont  Morgan  of  England !  He  won't  give 
in  to  the  Jews.  Well  done,  old  Sterling !  And  this  is 
his  son  1  He  looks  more  like  a  German  student.  Why 
on  earth  does  he  wear  a  steeple-crowned  hat?" 

"He  was  always  untidy,"  replied  Wentworth. 
"But,  by  George,  he's  a  clever  fellow!  He  came  up 
from  Eton  with  a  tremendous  reputation,  and  he  beat 
everybody  of  his  time  at  Oxford — easily.    He  told  me 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  19 

ist  now  that  he  has  been  wandering  about  Europe  for 

couple  of  years.    'Looking  at  pictures  ?'  I  asked  him. 

0/  he  said,  'I've  been  looking  at  people/  'What  do 
you  make  of  them?'  I  asked.  He  said  that  he  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  most  people  in  the  world 
are  unhappy.  A  rum  fellow!  I  expect  he'll  go  into 
politics.    He  was  always  a  bit  of  a  socialist." 

"That  won't  suit  his  father,  will  it?" 

"I  shouldn't  think  so." 

In  their  third-class  carriage,  higher  up  the  train, 
Sterling  and  Carl  Pommer  were  getting  better  ac- 
quainted with  each  other.  By  the  time  they  reached 
Charing  Cross  this  feeling  of  acquaintance  had  warmed 
on  both  sides  into  something  akin  to  friendship.  Pom- 
mer felt  that  his  companion  was  one  of  those  students 
who  need  the  guidance  of  practical  men  before  they 
can  hope  for  material  success  in  the  world,  and  he 
began  to  consider  whether  he  might  not  engage  Ster- 
ling as  a  bookkeeper,  using  him  of  an  evening  as  a 
tutor  for  his  boys. 

Sterling,  for  his  part,  was  genuinely  interested  in 
this  hearty,  childlike  person  who  had  risen  superior 
to  local  patriotism  and  made  a  deliberate  and  quasi- 
intellectual  choice  of  the  Government  under  which  he 
Would  live.  He  saw  in  this  kindly  German  baker  the 
hope  of  a  wiser  Europe,  the  promise  of  a  world-State. 
When  Pommer  suggested  at  Charing  Cross  that 
Sterling  should  come  with  him  then  and  there  to  see 
his  family  in  Walworth,  Sterling  replied  that,  as  no 


20  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

one  was  expecting  him  at  home,  he  would  gladly  do 
so.  Accordingly  he  left  his  bag  in  the  cloakroom  of 
the  station,  and  went  oif  with  the  baker  to  Walworth. 

There  was  some  one  in  London  whom  he  wished  to 
see,  and  yet  feared  and  dreaded  to  see — some  one  of 
whom  he  had  been  thinking  for  these  two  years  of 
wandering  in  Europe,  sometimes  with  a  sick  hunger 
of  the  heart,  and  sometimes  with  a  curious  dissatis- 
faction. 

It  struck  him  as  odd,  perhaps  as  symbolical,  that, 
instead  of  hastening  to  this  beautiful  and  brilliant  girl, 
he  should  be  going  off,  with  one  who  was  yesterday 
unknown  to  him,  to  visit  a  baker *s  shop  in  Walworth. 
Across  his  face  there  deepened  at  that  moment  the 
same  expression  of  melancholy  which  had  led  the  inn- 
keeper's wife  in  Calais  to  conclude  he  was  in  love. 

Pommer's  shop  had  the  appearance  of  a  challenging 
prosperit3^  It  stood  out  from  all  its  neighbors.  The 
brass  below  the  window  shone  like  gold:  the  window 
itself,  with  its  white  enameled  lettering,  was  as  bright 
as  the  brass :  and  the  contents  of  the  window,  arranged 
in  sloping  trays,  suggested  an  inexhaustible  profusion. 
Over  this  fine  window,  in  big  capital  letters  was  the 
name  Pommer,  with  the  flourishing  description  of 
baker,  pastrycook,  and  confectioner.  Sterling  was 
amazed  to  find  so  splendid  a  shop  in  such  a  draggle- 
tailed  neighborhood. 

At  the  bustling  entrance  of  Pommer,  a  pleasant- 
looking  woman,  who  appeared  to  be  much  worried 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  2i 

over  a  column  of  figures  in  a  big  ledger  on  a  desk  at 
the  window  end  of  the  counter,  broke  into  a  smile, 
colored  up  redly,  and  exclaimed,  "So  youVe  come  back 
then !    Well,  this  is  a  surprise !" 

Pommer,  who  was  bubbling  over  with  love  and  pride, 
and  who  was  uttering  deep  cooing  sounds,  lifted  the 
flap  of  the  counter,  passed  through,  dropped  his  bag, 
spread  his  arms  wide,  and  embraced  his  wife. 

"Oh,  lor,"  she  exclaimed,  "your  beard's  full  of  sea 
salt!  Don't  go  on  like  this,  with  people  passing  the 
window.    Behave  yourself  like  a  sensible  man." 

"Excuse  me,  my  dear  friend,"  said  the  baker  over 
his  shoulder,  regarding  Sterling  with  damp  eyes;  "I 
am  trying  to  keep  myself  from  tears.  It  is  like  heaven 
to  come  home.    We  have  never  been  separated  before." 

While  he  was  saying  this,  Sterling  observed  that  his 
eyes  were  regarding  everything  in  the  window  and  on 
the  counter  with  a  professional  anxiety. 

"And  the  children,  how  are  my  little  children?"  he 
demanded.  "This  gentleman  has  come  all  the  way 
from  France  to  see  them.  He  is  my  friend.  He  is 
Mr.  Sterling.  My  friend,  this  is  my  dear  wife  whom 
IBadore.  Ach,  look  at  those  buns !  They  are  no  good. 
1  will  speak  to  that  lazy  Smith.  And  business,  has  it 
been  good?  Yes,  yes;  that's  all  right.  Pretty  good, 
eh  ?    I  will  make  it  all  right — quite  all  right !" 

Sterling  was  taken  into  the  parlor  behind  the  shop, 
and  when  the  children  came  in  was  introduced  to  them 
by  Mrs.  Pommer,  Carl  Pommer  having  gone  off  to  the 


I 


^2  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

bakery  to  give  it  hot  and  strong  to  that  "lazy  Smith." 
"They  look  healthy,  don't  they?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Pommer.  "But  of  course  Walworth  is  a  very  healthy 
place,  I'm  sure  it  is.  There's  no  keeping  them  clean 
as  you  can  see.  I  send  them  out  in  the  morning  like 
new  pins,  every  one  of  them,  and  this  is  how  they  come 
home.  It's  playing  about  does  it.  But  there,  as  I  say 
to  their  father,  children  will  be  children;  you  can't 
help  that." 

When  Pommer  came  in,  very  red  and  fierce-looking 
from  his  encounter  with  Smith,  Sterling  heard  all 
about  the  attainments  of  these  children.  The  eldest 
boy  was  to  be  a  doctor ;  the  second  would  go  to  a  tech- 
nical college  and  then  into  engineering  works:  the 
third,  a  girl,  intended  to  be  a  teacher:  the  fourth,  a 
diminutive  genius  of  five,  showed  signs  of  musical 
ability — he  would  probably  be  apprenticed  to  Bech- 
stein's.  Pommer  became  radiantly  happy  in  speaking 
of  his  children,  and  at  the  end  called  for  a  jolly  tea. 

Because  of  his  homecoming  and  Sterling's  presence, 
the  tea  which  Mrs.  Pommer  placed  on  the  table  was  a 
meal  of  the  most  generous  character.  You  could 
scarcely  see  the  white  tablecloth  for  dishes  of  brown 
bread-and-butter,  white  bread-and-butter,  jam  tarts, 
sugar  cakes,  delicate  rolls,  muffins,  and  buttered  toast 
spread  with  bloater  paste.  The  children  behaved  excel- 
lently. Pommer  made  an  admirable  host.  Mrs.  Pom- 
mer, in  her  effort  to  be  thoroughly  ladylike,  was  a  little 
trying,  but  kindness  itself. 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  23 

Sterling  left  these  people  with  a  feeling  of  great 
friendship  towards  them,  promising,  and  meaning  to 
keep  his  promise,  to  come  and  see  them  again.  When 
he  was  in  the  cold  and  bitter  streets,  where  an  east 
wind  was  blowing  and  where  the  pavements  were 
coated  with  a  thick  sleet,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
left  behind  him  in  that  baker's  shop  a  successful  solu- 
tion of  the  problems  of  life. 

He  went  back  to  Charing  Cross  for  his  bag,  and 
then  taking  a  cab  drove  to  his  father's  house  in  Port- 
man  Square.  The  house  was  shut  up.  The  caretaker 
told  him  that  the  family  had  gone  down  to  King's 
Standing,  their  place  in  Surrey,  but  that  a  bedroom 
had  been  kept  ready  for  him  in  case  he  should  arrive. 
He  went  up  to  this  room,  unpacked  his  bag,  and  after 
he  had  washed  his  face  and  hands,  walked  through  the 

Knpty  and  desolate  rooms  of  the  house  for  some  mo- 
ents,  as  though  tortured  by  unrest.  Then  he  went 
It  into  the  streets. 

He  walked  swiftly  through  Oxford  Street,  crossed 

the  road,  and  made  his  way  by  side  streets  to  Berkeley 

.^^quare.    His  eyes  brightened  at  the  sight  of  lights  in 

I^Phe  windows  of  a  house  on  the  west  side  of  the  square, 

but  when  he  came  opposite  the  door  of  this  house  he 

IBtopped  dead,  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute,  and  then 
lurned  away. 
I  "It  is  too  late  to  call,"  he  told  himself.    But  at  the 
lomer  of  the  square  he  turned  and  walked  back.    The 
thought  of  his  empty  home,  with  the  furniture  in  curl 


24  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

papers,  afflicted  him  with  a  feeling  of  melancholy.  He 
went  to  the  door  of  the  house  at  which  he  had  stopped, 
and  rang  the  bell. 

As  he  followed  the  servant  upstairs  to  the  drawing- 
room  he  was  conscious  above  every  other  feeling  of  a 
deadening  fear.     He  was  afraid  of  what  he  should 
discover,  of  the  changes  time  and  temptation  might 
have  wrought  in  a  nature  to  which  he  had  once  felt 
himself  to  be  irresistibly  drawn,  and  yet  a  nature  which 
he  had  always  feared.    Throughout  his  life,  ever  since 
he  came  to  thought  fulness,  there  had  been  this  duality 
— passionate  impulses   of  inarticulate   feeling  and  a 
purely  intellectual  circumspection  inhibiting  those  im- 
pulses.    He  had  never  been  conscious  of  a  unity  in 
his  character.    Life  appeared  to  him  as  a  baffling  prob- 
lem because  he  had  never  been  able  to  see  it  from  a 
single  standpoint. 

The  drawing-room  was  full  of  people.  In  front  of 
the  fire  was  a  group  of  women  bidding  goodbye  to 
their  hostess;  at  the  piano  a  man  was  seated  talking 
to  two  girls  who  stood  at  his  side,  one  of  them  turning 
over  a  piece  of  music  on  the  rest:  close  to  them 
a  man  and  girl  were  practicing  a  new  step  in  dancing, 
laughing  rather  noisily;  and  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  room  there  was  a  party  of  older  people  playing 
bridge,  with  two  or  three  onlookers  seated  between 
their  chairs. 

When  Christopher  Sterling  entered  the  room,  one 
of  the  girls  standing  at  the  piano,  uttering  a  glad  ex- 


damatio 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  25 


amation  and  shining  with  pleasure,  almost  ran  to- 
wards him,  both  her  hands  stretched  out  in  welcome. 
This  impulsive  welcome,  so  sincere  and  flattering,  had 
^^kan  immediate  effect  on  Sterling.  His  eyes  lighted, 
^  eagerly  his  hands  went  forward  to  meet  the  girl's,  and 
he  held  them  firmly,  bending  forward  to  her  with  ad- 
miration and  affection. 

I**You  dear  thing !"  she  exclaimed ;  "you  dear  thing !" 
"How  nice  of  you  to  be  so  glad,"  he  made  answer. 
"Glad?     Fm  intoxicated!     Mother,   Christopher's 
come  back." 
A  little,  wiry,  mouse-like  woman,  dark-haired,  sharp- 
nosed,  and  with  blinking  eyes,  had  broken  away  from 
her  guests  on  the  hearth  at  the  first  sight  of  Chris- 
topher and  now  stood  beside  her  daughter  shaking  his 
hand  with  a  rare  heartiness,  looking  up  at  him  with  an 
affection  which  was  frank  and  endearing. 
•         This  little  woman,  who  was  as  sharp  as  a  fox,  as 
hard  as  a  diamond,  and  as  stimulating  as  a  cold  bath, 
who  could  be  as  generous  to  her  friends  as  a  philan- 
thropist and  as  uncharitable  to  those  who  most  needed 
her  generosity  as  a  miser,  who  loved  her  world  and 
wanted  no  other,  who  was  liberal  and  delightful  with 
those  she  liked,  and  bitter  and  stinging  to  every  one 
else,  was  a  Mrs.  Fanning,  daughter  of  Lord  Charles 
Warburton,  and  wife  of  Joseph  Fanning  the  ship- 
owner.   She  was  notorious  in  society  for  her  uncertain 
temper,  her  political  violence,  and  her  bitter  tongue, 
but  she  could  be  so  amusing  that  a  great  many  people 


26  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

liked  her,  and  her  house  in  town  was  regarded  as  one 
of  the  centers  of  the  Liberal  party. 

When  her  guests  had  departed,  she  made  Christo- 
pher Sterling  draw  his  chair  close  to  the  fire,  and 
smoking  a  cigarette  on  the  sofa  proceeded  to  question 
him  on  his  travels,  interrupting  almost  every  answer 
he  made  by  a  fresh  question  or  a  comment  which  either 
approved  of  his  opinions  or  dismissed  them  before  they 
were  quite  uttered.  On  the  other  side  of  Christopher 
was  Mr.Fanning,  a  big  and  solid  person,  very  slow  of 
speech,  with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  sug- 
gested a  compromise  between  intellectual  austerity  and 
a  troublesome  dyspepsia.  Between  Christopher  and 
the  fire,  seated  on  a  big  purple  cushion,  her  face  turned 
towards  him  and  her  eyes  heavy  with  an  affected  in- 
terest, was  the  beautiful  Violet  Fanning,  who  had 
greeted  him  so  impulsively. 

Christopher's  glances  were  divided  between  Violet 
and  her  mother.  He  was  conscious  of  an  increasing 
imnaturalness  as  he  talked  to  Mrs.  Fanning,  as  if  she 
were  forcing  him  to  be  not  his  real  self,  and  of  a  slow, 
deep,  and  pervading  disappointment  as  he  looked  at 
Violet. 

This  world  which  greeted  him  in  London  did  not 
seem  to  be  a  world  in  which  he  could  breathe  freely: 
he  was  oppressed  and  awkward ;  all  the  impetuous  hap- 
piness which  had  visited  his  heart  so  suddenly  and  so 
delightfully  at  his  entrance  was  now  gone  from  him. 
He  felt  himself  to  be  a  foreigner.    The  language  of 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  27 

these  people  was  not  his  language ;  their  customs  were 
not  his  customs ;  their  outlook  was  not  his  outlook,  and 
probably,  if  he  went  deep  enough,  their  God  was  not 
his  God. 

"Your  father  says  you  must  have  been  living  by 
your  wits,"  laughed  Violet,  making  an  effort  to  be 
interested. 

"What  does  he  mean  by  that?" 

"You  spent  so  little  money." 

"Oh!  I  see." 

Mr.  Fanning  said  that  he  only  wished  his  own  chil- 
dren had  the  same  fault. 

"How  you  spent  your  father's  money,"  said  Mrs. 
Fanning,  "is  of  small  consequence  compared  with  how 
you  intend  to  spend  your  own  future." 

"I  wish  I  could  manage  the  one  as  easily  as  the 
other,"  said  Sterling. 

"But  why  did  you  spend  so  little  money  ?"  demanded 
Violet. 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  I  spent,"  he  answered, 
with  a  smile ;  "but  I  expect  it  wasn't  very  much.  You 
see,  I  kept  away  from  the  beaten  track,  and  I  never 
spent  a  single  night  in  a  popular  hotel.  I  enjoyed  my- 
self in  taverns  and  inns,  and  very  often  I  stayed  in  the 
houses  of  priests  or  peasants,  who  were  amazingly 

Kspitable  and  full  of  information.    I  did  a  good  deal 
my  traveling,  too,  on  foot,  or  in  diligences,  and 
ry  often  in  wagons  and  carts,  getting  a  lift  on  the 
road.    When  I  went  by  train  I  traveled  third  class. 


28  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

not  only  to  avoid  tourists  but  in  order  to  meet  the 
people  of  the  country.  I  dare  say  it's  true  what  my 
father  says.  When  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  must  have 
spent  uncommonly  little  money ;  it's  extraordinary  how 
well  one  can  do  in  Europe  with  a  few  pounds." 

"And  now  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Fanning. 

He  looked  at  her. 

"How  do  you  propose  to  travel  now  ?"  she  asked. 

"That's  the  bother." 

"You'll  go  into  the  bank?'' 

"I  don't  think  so." 

"For  a  few  years?" 

"No;  I  don't  think  so." 

"Well,  into  Parliament?" 

"What  for?" 

There  was  a  pause.  Violet  looked  away  to  the  fire, 
disappointed  in  Christopher — he  was  always  disap- 
pointing her.  Mr.  Fanning  smiled  to  himself,  liking 
that  question  of  Christopher's,  What  for? — he  thought 
it  was  an  admirable  answer.  Mrs.  Fanning  regarded 
the  heir  of  Anthony  Sterling  with  a  marked  disap- 
proval. 

"I  mean,"  said  Christopher,  "it's  useless  for  a  man 
to  go  into  politics  until  he  has  discovered  the  remedy.'* 

"The  remedy  for  what  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Fanning. 

"All  the  muddle  of  things." 

"Christopher,"  she  said,  "there's  one  thing  you  must 
make  up  your  mind  not  to  be ;  you  may  be  almost  any- 
thing you  like,  but  you  must  not  be  odd" 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  ^29 

He  smiled.    "That's  my  risk,  isn't  it?" 

"And  it  may  be  your  ruin." 

"And  yet,"  he  said,  with  some  energy,  "no  one  could 
be  more  out  of  sympathy  with  cranks.  I  met  a  lot  of 
them  wherever  I  went,  and  they  seemed  to  me  wasting 
their  time  over  details." 

"Life  is  simple  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Fanning  with 
decision. 

"I  feel  that  it  ought  to  be." 

"It's  quite  simple  when  one  sees  that  it's  a  question 
of  evolution." 

"The  bother  is  to  decide  its  direction." 

"In  English  politics  you  see  the  whole  business  of 
life  reduced  to  its  simplest  elements,"  answered  Mrs. 
Fanning.  "You  have  the  Socialists  who  want  to  jump 
progress;  you  have  the  Tories  who  want  to  hamper 
progress;  and  you  have  the  Liberals  who  want  prog- 
ress to  move  at  its  own  natural  pace.  You  must  be  a 
Liberal.  You  must  go  into  Parliament,  and  you  must 
work  with  your  party.  And  above  everything  else  you 
must  enjoy  life.  For  heaven's  sake  don't  take  it  too 
seriously.    If  you  do,  you'll  be  lost." 

Violet,  stifling  a  yawn,  leaned  back  from  her  cushion 
and  looked  up  at  the  little  gold  clock  on  the  white  man- 
telpiece. "Good  heavens !"  she  exclaimed  with  sudden 
energy;   "it's    nearly    eight    o'clock,    and    we    aren't 

essed."     She  put  out  her  hands   to   Christopher. 

ull  me  up,"  she  said ;  "I'm  dog  tired." 

He  rose  to  do  her  bidding. 


36  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"You'll  stay  to  dinner?"  asked  Mrs.  Fanning,  gather- 
ing up  her  bag  and  some  letters.  "It  doesn't  matter 
about  changing;  and  we're  all  alone  to-night." 

Christopher  made  his  excuses.  He  had  a  number  of 
letters  to  write. 

Violet  said  good-bye  to  him  without  any  warmth. 

He  went  out  into  the  wintry  weather  with  a  strong 
feeling  in  his  mind  that  during  the  last  hour  he  had 
made  a  definite  break  with  the  past.  There  was  no 
sadness  in  his  heart.  He  was  disappointed,  but  the 
disappointment  had  been  expected.  This  beautiful 
girl,  who  attracted  him  so  powerfully,  belonged  to  a 
world  which  she  loved  more  than  any  creature  under 
heaven,  and  it  was  a  world  which  he  felt  to  be  a  dying 
and  a  dull  world.  He  was  aware  that  she  did  not  feel 
for  him  any  deep  affection,  that  he  did  not  really  in- 
terest her,  that  the  romance  of  their  first  attraction  for 
each  other  had  long  ago  departed  from  both  their 
hearts. 

If  he  had  felt  strong  enough  to  rescue  her  from  that 
perishing  world  which  satisfied  her  and  engaged  all 
her  ambitions,  he  would  have  made  the  attempt  to  take 
her  heart  by  storm.  But  the  trouble  with  him  was  this, 
that  he  had  no  other  world  to  which  he  could  carry 
her.  He  was  looking  for  that  world,  and  it  might  be 
many  years  before  he  found  it:  in  the  meantime  she 
was  of  her  world,  more  and  more  its  prisoner. 

He  went  through  the  streets  with  a  sense  of  loneli- 
ness in  his  heart.    His  love  for  Violet,  which  had  some- 


I 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD  31 


times  seemed  to  him  in  his  absence  from  her  the 
greatest  force  in  his  life,  was  now  nothing  but  a  dis- 
appointment. He  did  not  suffer  any  sharpness  of  pain 
under  this  disappointment ;  but  he  was  aware  of  a  new 
soHtude  in  his  heart,  a  strange  emptiness,  as  if  it  was 
a  famiHar  room  from  which  some  one  in  his  absence 
had  removed  a  favorite  picture. 

"Guvnor,"  said  a  hoarse  voice  at  his  elbow,  "could 
you  spare  a  few  coppers  for  a  bed?  Fm  perishing 
with  the  cold,  straight  I  am;  and  I've  eaten  nothing 
since  yesterday  morning.  For  God's  sake,  give  us  a 
few  coppers." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  the  miserable  wretch  slink- 
ing at  his  side,  with  humped  shoulders,  chattering  teeth, 
and  hands  chafing  each  other  in  front  of  the  hollowed 
chest,  the  crafty  eyes  glancing  everywhere  for  a  police- 
man. 

"Is  it  so  hard  to  get  work  ?"  asked  Sterling. 

"Guvnor,  I've  been  round  the  markets,  I  swear  to 
God  I  have,  every  day  this  last  three  weeks,  and  as 

Iie  as  I'm  a  living  man " 
Christopher  stopped, 
"What's  wrong  with  you?'*  he  asked.     "You're  an 
iglishman,  and  you  live  like  an  ownerless  dog.    Why 
do  you  do  it  ?" 

The  wretch  came  closer  to  him,  protesting  he  was 
an  honest  man  and  willing  to  work,  declaring  that  no 
work  was  to  be  had,  and  that  there  were  thousands 
like  him  out  of  work  through  no  fault  of  their  own. 


32  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"And  look  at  me,"  he  cried  bitterly,  his  teeth  striking 
each  other,  his  whole  body  convulsed  with  cold,  "I've 
been  soaked  through  with  snow  and  rain  for  three 
days,  soaked  to  the  bone,  and  with  no  soles  to  my 
boots,  and  nothing  under  this  coat  but  a  vest  which 
was  worn  out  a  year  ago." 

Christopher  gave  the  man  some  silver,  and  said  to 
him,  "You  will  never  be  warm  and  you  will  never  be 
happy  until  you  feel  you  would  rather  die  than  be  as 
you  are  now.    Try  to  get  back  your  self-respect." 

The  man  said,  "Self-respect!  Why,  what  chance 
have  I  had?  Listen,  guvnor;  my  mother  was  drunk 
when  I  was  born,  and  I  was  shifting  for  myself  in  the 
streets  before  I  was  six  years  old.  Self-respect !  What 
chance  have  I  had?  But  don't  you  worry  about  my 
being  warm !  I'll  be  warm  and  happy  to-night  all  right 
thanks  to  you  I  will." 

And  with  that  he  ran  across  the  road,  hugging  his 
rags  together,  and  laughing  with  a  rare  pleasure. 

"Warm  and  happy  to-night,"  reflected  Christopher, 
"and  to-morrow ?" 

For  some  moments  he  thought  about  this  encounter, 
dwelling  on  it  as  though  it  were  a  problem  presented 
to  him  for  solution;  but  presently  his  mind  returned 
to  Violet  Fanning,  and  the  beggar  slipped  out  of  his 
consciousness. 

He  wondered  whence  came  the  extraordinary  beauty 
of  Violet's  eyes.  She  had  no  loveliness  of  mind,  no 
fineness  of  spirit.     Intellectually  she  was  third-rate, 


THE  EYES  OF  THE  DEAD 


33 


spiritually  she  hardly  existed ;  and  yet  those  great  eyes 
of  hers  were  superb  in  their  beauty.  He  said  to  him- 
self, "Those  eyes  do  not  belong  to  her;  they  are  in- 
herited from  some  one:  they  are  the  eyes  of  a  dead 
woman  who  loved  greatly:  Violet  is  using  them,  and 
their  beauty  will  fade  because  her  spirit  is  unworthy 
of  them ;  they  will  become  dull,  hard,  expressionless." 
The  thought  stayed  in  his  mind  that  he  had  never  loved 
this  girl,  that  his  love  was  for  some  dead  woman  whose 
eyes  looked  at  him  from  Violet's  face,  and  he  fell 
asleep  wondering  who  this  unknown  woman  had  been. 


CHAPTER  III 

Christopher's  telegram 

<4VI7rHAT  do  you  think,  my  dear?"  asked  Mr. 
W  Anthony  Sterling,  coming  back  to  the  break- 
fast-room with  the  Times  newspaper  dragging  in  one 
hand,  and  an  open  telegram  in  the  other. 

"I  can't  imagine,'*  replied  his  wife,  from  behind  the 
coffee-pot. 

"I  know !"  cried  Arthur,  brandishing  a  kidney  on  his 
fork;  "the  bank  rate  has  gone  up." 

Old  Mr.  Sterling  stooped  his  head  and  over  the  rims 
of  his  eyeglasses,  surveyed  his  family  with  paternal 
pride.  They  had  come  down,  in  their  various  degrees 
of  laziness,  several  minutes  late  for  breakfast,  with  the 
exception  of  the  eldest  of  them  there,  Langton  the  sol- 
dier, who  had  gone  for  a  run  in  flannels  while  the 
others  were  asleep.  But  they  were  such  handsome  and 
pleasant  children,  and  his  wife  looked  so  thoroughly 
happy  sitting  among  them  at  the  round  table  in  this 
green-and-gold  breakfast-room,  where  a  cheerful  fire 
was  blazing  away  with  all  the  energy  of  a  cold  morning, 
that  old  Mr.  Sterling  had  no  other  feeling  towards 
them  than  one  of  deep  affection  stiffened  by  pride. 

34 


CHRISTOPHER'S  TELEGRAM  35 

[e  was  a  man  above  the  middle  height,  clean-shaven, 
ith  a  fine  scholarly  face,  his  hair  graying  and  thin- 
ning, his  complexion  pink  and  fresh.  When  his  lips 
parted  he  showed  excellent  teeth,  and  when  he  smiled 
a  light  of  great  kindness  came  into  his  pale  blue  eyes. 
The  interesting  quality  in  his  face  was  its  extreme 
gentleness:  there  was  a  complete  absence  of  rigidity: 
the  mobility  of  his  lips,  which  were  seldom  still,  sug- 
gesting rather  fastidiousness  of  mind  than  shrewdness 
of  intellect  or  intensity  of  purpose.  As  he  stood  there, 
surveying  his  family,  the  whole  face  seemed  to  glow 
with  aflPection, 

There  was  Langton,  eighteen  months  younger  than 
Christopher  the  scholar,  a  smart  soldier  lately  gazetted 
to  a  smart  regiment  of  Lancers,  the  soul  of  honor, 
disposed  towards  religion,  and  a  great  sportsman ; 
there  was  his  only  daughter,  Sibyl,  a  most  attractive 
specimen  of  English  girlhood,  cultured  and  refined, 
and  a  lover  of  all  healthy  sports;  there  was  Arthur 
of  Balliol,  a  rowing  man  and  no  doubt  the  future  Lord 
Chancellor;  and  last  of  all  there  was  James,  still  at 
Eton,  sunning  himself  in  the  reputation  of  the  brothers 
who  had  gone  before  him,  a  most  lovable  boy,  gentle 
and  gracious,  remarkable  already  for  his  knowledge  of 
music  and  painting,  a  universal  favorite  because  of  the 
sweetness  of  his  nature. 

Through  the  mind  of  old  Mr.  Sterling,  surveying  his 
family  over  the  tortoiseshell  rim  of  his  glasses,  there 
flashed  the  thought  of  his  great  fortune  in  having  those 


36  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

children  hale  and  strong  under  his  roof,  not  one  of 
them  exposed  to  the  hazards  of  war  in  South  Africa. 
He  hated  war.  There  was  Quaker  blood  in  his  veins, 
and  he  hated  it  with  a  double  hate,  the  hate  of  the 
religious  man  who  abominates  all  violence,  and  the 
hate  of  the  born  money-maker  who  knows  what  dis- 
turbance, and  what  peril,  war  introduces  into  the  del- 
icate mechanism  of  finance.  To  know  that  this  wret- 
ched business  in  South  Africa  was  likely  to  be  over 
before  even  his  soldier  son  could  be  exposed  to  its 
risks,  warmed  his  heart.  How  lucky  he  was  to  have 
this  young  family  safe  under  his  roof ! 

*T  know !"  cried  Mrs.  Sterling,  jumping  up  with  ex- 
citement, and  pointing  a  finger  at  her  husband ;  *'Chris- 
topher  is  back." 

The  banker  beamed  with  pleasure.  "Your  maternal 
instinct,  my  dear!    He  is  arriving  by  the  11.45." 

There  was  a  shout  of  deHght  from  the  rest  of  the 
family.  "Dear  old  Christopher !"  was  the  commonest 
exclamation. 

Mrs.  Sterling  rang  the  bell.  She  was  one  of  those 
admirable  English  women  whose  intelligence  is  as 
sound  as  their  health.  She  was  intellectually  superior 
to  most  women  of  her  class,  and  with  this  refinement 
of  mind  and  a  very  sure  taste  she  combined  a  vigorous 
devotion  to  field  sports,  still  riding  to  hounds,  and 
playing  as  good  a  round  of  golf  as  a  game  of  tennis. 
She  was  just  under  fifty — ^brisk  and  alert,  with  a  fine 
head,  and  a  face  of  no  little  handsomeness. 


1 

A 


I 


CHRISTOPHER'S  TELEGRAM  37 


When  a  servant  answered  the  bell  she  gave  instruc- 
tions for  the  dog-cart  to  be  round  at  the  door  at  a 
quarter  past  eleven,  and  for  Mr.  Christopher's  room  to 
be  made  ready  and  a  fire  lighted  there. 

"You  will  drive  to  meet  him,  I  suppose?"  asked  the 

W''Oi  course." 

"You  might  tell  him  that  I  have  had  a  table  made 

Iady  for  him  in  my  room  at  the  bank." 
**What  are  you  going  to  pay  him,  father  ?"  demanded 
rthur.    "Ten  thousand  a  year  and  his  washing?" 

Mrs.  Sterling,  who  had  approached  her  husband, 
looked  at  him  a  little  sadly.  "I'm  afraid  you  may  be 
disappointed,"  she  said,  quietly. 

"One  of  my  sons  must  follow  me,"  said  the  banker. 
"If  not  Christopher,  then  James." 

"Good  old  James!"  cried  Arthur,  smacking  his 
brother  on  the  back,  and  almost  choking  him  as  the 
boy,  who  was  blushing  a  good  deal,  tried  to  swallow 
a  mouthful  of  coffee. 

"I  believe  James  will  make  a  great  banker,"  said 
Langton,  from  the  other  side  of  the  table. 
^■"We'U  all  borrow  money  from  you,"  said  Arthur, 
pretending  to  cuddle  him  up. 

Mrs.  Sterling  was  still  looking  at  her  husband.  "I 
think  we  must  make  up  our  minds,"  she  said,  "that 
Christopher  is  going  into  politics." 

"I  hope,"  Sibyl  remarked,  "that  he  won't  be  stupid 
about  Violet  Fanning.    She's  deteriorating  every  sea- 


38  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

son.    It  would  be  a  disaster  if  he  married  her." 

"Lend  me  a  tenner,  dear  old  fellow,"  whispered 
Arthur  into  the  ear  of  James.  "I'll  give  you  a  bill 
for  it  drawn  on  Bombay  at  sixty  days'  sight  payable 
on  delivery,  E.  &  O.  E." 

Old  Mr.  Sterling  and  his  wife  went  out  of  the  room 
together. 

"You  are  very  happy?"  he  asked,  giving  her  the 
telegram. 

She  smiled,  nodding  her  head. 

At  the  door  of  the  library  he  stopped.  "And  where 
are  you  going  now  ?"  he  asked. 

"To  get  some  flowers  for  his  room." 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  ANNOUNCEMENT  OF  HIS  EXPERIMENT 

CHRISTOPHER  remained  at  home  till  after  the 
new  year.  It  was  not  until  the  evening  before 
his  departure  that  he  disclosed  his  plans  for  the  future, 
and  then  only  to  his  mother.  Up  to  this  moment  he 
had  been  under  the  spell  of  the  happiness  of  his  fam- 
ily, telling  them  about  his  travels,  listening  to  all  their 
stories,  and  entering  into  most  of  their  games.  He  was 
not  so  interested  in  Langton,  the  religious  soldier,  who 
thought  him  one  of  the  finest  fellows  in  the  world,  as 
in  his  youngest  brother  James,  whose  very  beautiful 
nature  made  a  special  appeal  to  him.  He  went  for  sev- 
eral walks  with  this  schoolboy,  and  listened  to  his  con- 
fidences with  a  kind  of  reverence  which  perhaps  Lang- 
ton would  not  have  been  able  thoroughly  to  understand. 
^P  But  it  was  easier  for  him  to  talk  to  his  mother  than 
to  anybody  else,  and  he  told  her  a  good  many  things 
every  day  which  prepared  her  for  his  final  announce- 
ment. She  alone  realized  the  nature  of  the  conflict  in 
his  soul.  To  most  people,  his  gravity  and  his  reticence 
appeared  as  part  and  parcel  of  his  reputation  as  a 
scholar,  and  they  never  thought  of  attributing  to  this 

39 


40  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

unusually  quiet  and  modest  young  man  anything  in  the 
nature  of  a  spiritual  conflict. 

"So  you  are  really  going  back  to  London  to-mor- 
row?" Mrs.  Sterling  asked  him. 

"Yes,  to-morrow." 

They  had  gone  away  from  the  others  into  the  room 
which  had  once  been  the  children's  schoolroom,  a  little 
upstairs  apartment,  which  Mrs.  Sterling  now  used  as  a 
sitting-room  for  herself.  They  had  gone  to  this  room 
knowing  that  they  would  speak  intimately  to  each 
other,  a  look  from  Christopher's  eyes  telling  her  in  the 
midst  of  festivity  downstairs  that  he  had  something  to 
say  to  her,  and  a  look  from  her  eyes  telling  him  to 
follow  her  from  the  room. 

A  certain  awkwardness  held  them  both. 

"This  fire  will  soon  be  out,"  she  said,  stooping  to 
the  fender. 

"Let  me  see  to  it,"  he  said,  taking  the  poker  from 
her  hand. 

She  went  over  to  the  window  and  drew  the  curtains 
closer  together.  "It's  not  too  cold  for  you  up  here, 
is  it?"  she  asked  coming  back  to  him. 

"No,  not  a  bit ;  and  the  fire  will  soon  be  burning  all 
right." 

"Your  father  knows  that  you  don't  want  to  go  into 
the  bank,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling,  sitting  down  and  taking 
up  some  knitting  from  a  work-basket  beside  her  chair. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  disappointed  him."  "Well,  of 
course  he  would  have  loved  to  have  you  with  him." 


HIS  EXPERIMENT  ANNOUNCED         41 


H[   "I  think  I  should  have  disappointed  him  still  more 
if  I'd  joined  him." 

"You  are  not  quite  sure,  are  you,  about  politics  ?" 

"Not  quite." 

"What  do  you  think  of  doing  in  London  ?" 

"My  idea  is  rather  to  study  things  at  close  quarters." 

I     "What  sort  of  things?" 
I   "Human  things.     I  want  to  live  among  the  worst 
peVe  got  and  see  why  it  is  they  are  what  they  are." 
I   "That's  not  a  bad  preparation  for  pohtics." 
[   "My  idea  is  that  you  can't  know  people  by  visiting 
them;  you've  got  to  live  with  them,  exactly  as  they 
live,  to  find  what's  wrong  with  them,  or  rather  what's 
wrong  with  our  organization  of  society." 

"You  mean,  you  want  to  live  in  the  slums  for  a  bit  ?" 
"Yes,  I  thought  of  it." 

"My  only  objection  to  that  would  be  that  these  are 

e  best  years  of  your  life,  and  it  seems  rather  a  pity 

spend  them  on  observation  instead  of  on  something 

ike  real  action." 

"You  see  my  trouble  is  that  I  don't  feel  at  present 

s  if  I  know  enough  to  act.    I  should  like  to  act,  but 

ow?     That's  my  bother.     I'm  trying  to  understand 

fe.    As  soon  as  I  seem  to  get  a  fairly  good  definition, 

mething  comes  into  my  vision  which  upsets  it,  makes 

t  a  fallacy.    And  then  I  have  to  begin  all  over  again." 

"Don't  you  think,  perhaps,  that  it  is  because  you  are 

Cor  the  opportunity  of  heroic  action,  action  on 
g  scale,  that  this  difficulty  arises  ?    I  mean,  if 


42  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

you  were  to  content  yourself  with  action  on  a  moderate 

scale  and  in  the  usual  field  of  action ."  She  stopped 

knitting  and  looked  up  at  him, 

"Yes,  that's  true." 

She  saw  that  her  eyes  disconcerted  him,  and  once 
more  went  on  with  her  work.  She  said:  "Of  course 
it's  part  of  your  niceness  that  action  which  satisfies 
most  men  does  not  appeal  to  you.  YouVe  no  small 
aims  in  your  mind,  and  no  limited  horizon  to  your  vis- 
ion. The  trouble  is,  knowledge  came  too  easily  to  you. 
You  never  had  to  grind,  like  Langton  and  Arthur.  I 
remember  your  first  governess  saying  to  me  that  she 
never  had  to  put  anything  into  your  mind,  that  every- 
thing she  wanted  to  teach  you  was  there,  and  all  she 
had  to  do  was  to  get  it  out.  *And  it  comes  out,'  she 
said,  *in  a  flood.'  That  was  quite  true.  You  remember 
how  easily  everything  came  to  you  at  Eton.  And  you 
used  to  tell  me  that  you  never  really  worked  like  other 
men  at  Balliol,  and  yet  look  what  you  did  there.  Well, 
the  penalty  of  such  intellectual  ease  is  vagueness  and 
uncertainty  of  aim.  You  don't  want  to  be  a  judge,  or 
a  general,  or  a  minister,  or  an  ambassador,  or  a  bishop. 
You  don't  want  a  prize  of  any  sort.  You've  never 
worked  as  a  boy  to  succeed,  and  so  as  a  man  you  don't 
know  what  to  be  at.  Your  difficulty,  I  think,  will  be 
to  set  before  yourself  some  definite  aim,  and  the  harder 
it  is  the  better  it  will  be  for  you." 

"The  hardest  thing  of  all,"  he  said,  "is  to  be  a 
Christian." 


HIS  EXPERIMENT  ANNOUNCED         43 

"Yes,  I  should  say  that  was  difficult." 

There  was  silence  for  some  moments,  and  then  she 
said,  still  without  looking  at  him.  "I  didn't  know  you 
were  particularly  interested  in  the  Christian  religion." 

"I  don't  think  I  am.  I  mean,  I'm  not  interested  in 
the  church.  Langton  rather  bores  me  with  his  church- 
manship." 

"Yes,  I  fear  he  regards  me  with  a  good  deal  of 
pain." 

"You're  not  interested  in  religion?" 

She  stopped  knitting  and  looked  at  him :  "Not  in  the 
Christ  of  the  churches,"  she  answered ;  "no,  not  in  the 
least.  I  don't  understand  Him,  and  I  don't  understand 
what  the  churches  understand  by  Him." 

"That  is  how  it  is  with  me,"  he  said. 

"I  daresay  religion  of  that  kind  is  very  useful  for 
certain  people,  and  I'm  sure  it's  helpful  to  a  great 
number.  But  what  it  means  I  haven't  the  least  idea. 
The  creeds  seem  to  me,  as  intellectual  statements,  to 
be  meaningless,  and  the  ritual  of  the  altar  an  extra- 
ordinary jumble  of  barbaric  superstition  and  pagan 
symbolism.  In  the  midst  of  all  this,  the  historical  Jesus 
seems  to  be  lost,  and  the  being  they  call  Christ  seems 
to  be  a  shadow." 

"It's  the  historical  Jesus  who  interests  me." 

"He  will  always  interest  us." 

"I  have  an  idea  that  if  he  should  ever  become  real 
to  mankind  it  would  put  everything  right." 

"Yes,  I  think  that's  true ;  but  you  may  be  sure  that 


44  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

neither  church  nor  government  will  ever  let  him  be- 
come real ;  he's  far  too  dangerous." 

"What  an  upheaval  it  would  be !" 

"Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "is  this  idea  of  Jesus  working 
itself  into  your  politics?" 

"I  suppose  it  is." 

"Mind  you,  that's  going  to  be  very  dangerous  to 
your  career." 

"I  know." 

"You  are  at  the  beginning  of  your  life,  and  a;  step 
aside  into  the  wilderness  may  be  fatal." 

"But  a  man  must  know  what  he  would  be  at  before 
he  sets  to  work." 

"I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  he'll  find  what  he  wants  in 
the  wilderness.  However,  your  mind  is  made  up  about 
that.  You  are  going  into  the  slums  to  observe.  All 
I  would  say  is  this,  don't  stay  too  long  and  don't  break 
your  connections  with  the  other  parts  of  society." 

"Of  course  it's  only  an  experiment.  Tm  anxious 
that  there  shouldn't  be  a  fuss  about  it  in  the  family." 

"I'll  see  to  that." 

"I  knew  I  had  only  to  tell  you  my  idea ." 

"I  quite  understand." 

When  they  parted  he  said  to  her  that  he  thought  of 
taking  up  his  quarters  in  Walworth,  and  told  her  some- 
thing of  the  Pommer  family. 

She  laughed  over  his  description  and  said  that  she 
must  certainly  make  the  acquaintance  of  that  remark- 
able family. 


HIS  EXPERIMENT  ANNOUNCED 


45 


"You  aren't  disappointed  about  me  ?"  he  asked. 
"Not   disappointed,"   she   answered,    "but   a   little 


:ious. 


"You  think  I  am  wasting  precious  time?" 
"Yes,  and  in  rather  a  dangerous  way/' 
"Why  dangerous?" 
"I  feel  it  to  be  dangerous." 


CHAPTER  y 

MRS.  STERLING  BECOMES  ANXIOUS 

ONE  day  soon  after  Christopher's  departure  Mrs. 
Fanning  and  Violet  came  down  to  luncheon  with 
the  Sterlings,  inviting  themselves.  Violet  disliked 
Langton  because  of  his  absurd  churchmanship,  but  felt 
that  Arthur  had  the  making  of  "a  nice  boy.'*  She 
amused  herself  between  Arthur  and  Sibyl,  flirting  with 
the  one  in  jocular  fashion,  and  attempting  to  make  the 
other  jealous  by  a  recital  of  all  the  delights  she  had 
been  enjoying  in  London. 

Mrs.  Fanning's  business  was  with  Mrs.  Sterling. 
She  felt  that  Mrs.  Sterling  ought  to  be  told  that  Chris- 
topher was  in  danger  of  fooling  away  his  life.  She 
was  convinced  that  no  one  could  perform  this  delicate 
office  in  a  more  tactful  way  than  herself.  If  it  could 
be  done,  she  would  save  Christopher  to  society.  She 
found  a  vigorous  ally  for  her  cause  in  Langton  Ster- 
ling, the  Lancer. 

*'Well,"  she  began,  "Christopher  has  gone  to  live  in 
the  slums." 

"Deplorable,  isn't  it?"  exclaimed  Langton. 

"It's  so  unoriginal,"  she  cut  in. 

46 


MRS.  STERLING  BECOMES  ANXIOUS     47 

"1  argued  with  him  for  hours,"  said  Langton. 

"And  he  wouldn't  Hsten?  The  monster  I"  Then^ 
jerking  round  to  Mrs.  Sterling,  "What  do  you  think 
about  it?" 

"It's  rather  early  to  judge,  isn't  it?"  replied  Mrs. 
Sterling. 

"Ah,  of  course,  you'd  never  say  one  word  against 
Christopher,  would  you  ?  No ;  not  though  your  heart 
was  full  of  fury  against  him.  But,  my  dear  Elizabeth, 
this  kind  of  Tolstoyism,  and  that's  what  it  amounts  to, 
this  kind  of  religious  and  political  mousse,  is  going  to 
ruin  his  digestion  for  daily  bread.  Mark  my  words. 
And  what  a  dreadful  waste.  Think  of  his  parts.  Think 
of  his  reputation.  Instead  of  making  use  of  that  repu- 
tation he's  dallying  with  the  impossible,  and  when  he 
has  found  out  that  it  is  the  impossible  his  reputation 
will  be  forgotten.  He'll  arrive  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons like  any  ordinary  carpetbagger." 

Langton  disliked  this  woman,  but  he  cordially  agreed 
with  her  views. 

"I  told  him,"  he  said,  with  energy,  "exactly  what 
you  are  saying  now ;  I  pointed  out  to  him  that  all  pro- 
testantism and  nonconformity  are  only  so  many  side 
turnings  from  the  broad  road  of  history.  But  poor  old 
Christopher,  with  all  his  brilliant  learning,  has  always 
lacked  a  governing  commonsense.  I  think  it  is  because 
he  was  never  keen  on  games.  He  has  none  of  the 
instincts  of  a  sportsman.  He  is  the  soul  of  honor,  a 
most  noble  fellow,  but  he  lacks  vigor  of  will.    His 


48  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

personality,    so    to    speak,    is    always    in    a    muse." 

"Why  don't  you,"  asked  Mrs.  Fanning,  addressing 
herself  to  Christopher's  mother,  "insist  upon  his  join- 
ing you  when  you  come  back  to  town,  if  only  for  two 
or  three  days  a  week  ?  He  ought  to  go  out  to  parties, 
meet  people,  mix  with  his  own  world,  and  associate 
with  men  of  his  own  standing.  I  feel  he  will  waste 
his  life,  a  life  we  are  all  so  proud  of,  if  he  persists  in 
this  craze.  And  how  dull  and  old-fashioned  it  is! 
People  have  been  slumming  for  the  last  ten  years,  and 
what  has  come  of  it  ?    So  far  as  I  know  nothing  at  all." 

At  this  point  a  servant  entered  the  room  with  a  tele- 
gram for  Langton.  He  took  it,  and  opening  the  envel- 
ope, began  to  support  Mrs.  Fanning's  views,  only 
glancing  at  the  message  as  he  spoke.  But  of  a  sudden 
he  stopped  dead,  a  look  of  great  pleasure  came  into 
his  handsome  young  face,  and  he  exclaimed,  "What 
splendid  luck!" 

With  that  he  rose  from  his  chair,  told  the  servant 
there  was  no  answer,  and  going  over  to  his  mother 
said  to  her,  "It  has  come  at  last,  what  Fve  been  long- 
ing for." 

"Your  regiment  is  ordered  out?" 

"Yes." 

Mrs.  Fanning  said,  "I  congratulate  you,  Langton. 
How  delighted  you  must  be !" 

"Nothing,"  he  said,  "could  please  me  so  much,  not 
even  the  news  that  dear  old  Christopher  had  chucked 
the  wilderness." 


MRS.  STERLING  BECOMES  ANXIOUS     47 

His  mother  asked  him  when  he  would  be  going.  He 
replied  that  he  must  start  at  once. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Mrs.  Fanning,  "Violet  and  I 
will  get  out  of  your  way.  I  quite  understand  your 
joy,  but  all  the  same  it's  a  beastly  war." 

"Don't  say  that !"  he  made  answer. 

"But  I  do.  It's  a  perfectly  beastly  war,  and  I  wish 
it  were  well  over." 

"I  call  it  one  of  the  hope  fullest  of  wars,"  said  Lang- 
ton.  "It  means  the  destruction  of  a  provincial  pro- 
testantism, and  the  baptism  of  a  fine  people  into  a  great 
moral  imperialism.  I  believe  the  Boers  will  be  a  mag- 
nificent people  when  they're  under  our  flag." 

"Oh,  stuff  and  nonsense!"  replied  Mrs.  Fanning; 
"we  are  fighting  the  Boer  because  there's  gold  in  the 
Transvaal,  and  because  our  moral  imperialism  and  our 
catholic  religion  are  represented  out  there  by  a  lot  of 
scoundrelly  Jews.  All  the  same,  I  hope  you'll  give  the 
enemy  a  good  beating  and  come  back  with  any  number 
of  ribbons." 

Her  last  words  to  Mrs.  Sterling  concerned  Chris- 
topher. "Get  him  back,"  she  said ;  "feed  him  well,  take 
him  to  see  bright  people,  surround  him  with  pretty 
girls,  give  him  *a  good  time,'  and  save  his  soul." 

Violet  was  standing  at  her  mother's  side. 

"I'm  sure  he'll  ruin  himself,"  she  said,  laughing, 
"He  gets  more  and  more  serious.  And  he  used  to  be 
such  a  dear." 

When  they  had  gone,  and  Langton  had  taken  his- 


^o  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

departure,  Mrs.  Sterling  sat  down  beside  the  fire  to 
^ome  needlework. 

She  found  that  her  anxiety  for  Langton  was  not 
great;  that  Langton  indeed  did  not  occupy  her 
thoughts,  but  that  Christopher  did  —  Christopher  the 
son  of  great  promise,  the  first-born,  the  child  of  her 
deepest  love. 

This  practical  and  efficient  woman  began  to  be  pro- 
foundly anxious.  Was  there  not  a  chance  that  Chris- 
topher might  become  that  most  intolerable  thing  a 
'Crank?  —  a  dreadful  possibility  that  he  might  never 
return  from  the  slums?  She  knew  that  he  was  far 
too  rational  a  man  to  become  a  fiery  prophet  of  revo- 
lution; nothing  in  the  slums  would  ever  make  him  a 
demagogue,  even  of  the  highest  kind;  but  he  might 
stay  there,  looking  on,  until  it  was  too  late  to  return. 

Langton  had  said  he  lacked  a  governing  common- 
sense.  That  was  only  partially  true.  He  had  consid- 
erable commonsense,  and  this  commonsense  governed 
him  far  too  much  for  her  liking;  but  it  was  not  the 
commonsense  which  commended  itself  to  Langton.  It 
was  not  the  commonsense  of  compromise  and  con- 
formity; it  was  the  commonsense  of  a  rational,  a 
severely  logical  mind.  It  would  be  as  difficult  for 
Christopher  to  fall  into  line  with  any  party  of  politi- 
cians or  any  set  of  men,  as  it  would  be  for  Langton 
to  throw  up  his  commission  or  abandon  his  church. 

But  Langton  had  been  right  in  this,  that  Christopher 
Jacked  something.    Did  it  come  from  solitary  study 


MRS.  STERLING  BECOMES  ANXIOUS     51 

and  a  physical  incapacity  for  games?  Would  it  have 
been  there,  saving  his  soul,  if  she  had  forced  him  to 
join  in  all  the  games  and  sports  of  the  family,  instead 
of  leaving  him  under  a  tree  or  in  a  chair  by  the  fire, 
reading,  reading,  eternally  reading? 

What  was  it  he  lacked? 

She  thought  it  was  Will.  It  seemed  to  her,  as  she 
thought  about  him,  that  he  was  without  any  central 
intention,  any  drive  of  personality.  How  was  this  to 
be  given?  Could  it  be  given  by  the  world  of  which 
Mrs.  Fanning  had  spoken,  by  the  world  of  gaiety  and 
amusement,  of  pretty  women  and  cheerfulness,  the 
world  which  had  the  one  central  intention  of  enjoying 
itself  ?  No,  that  was  a  foolish  prescription,  character- 
istic of  the  woman  who  gave  it. 

But  there  was  another  world.  There  were  men  and 
women  in  society  who  turned  their  backs  on  the  friv- 
olous round,  who  were  interested  in  serious  matters, 
who  possessed  great  intelligence,  and  who  gave  them- 
selves to  the  service  of  their  fellow-men.  She  thought 
of  two  or  three  men  in  politics,  and  of  several  women 
she  knew  in  London  whose  lives  were  refined  and 
beautiful.  She  wondered,  in  thinking  of  these  people, 
why  it  was  she  had  no  hope  that  they  would  interest 
Christopher.  Was  it  because  their  seriousness  prom- 
ised no  salvation  to  mankind  ? 

Sibyl  entered  the  room. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  worrying  about  Langton,"  she 
said,  coming  to  her  mother's  side.     "He  would  be 


52  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

frightfully  wretched  if  it  ended  before  he  got  out." 

**No,  Tm  not  worrying." 

"Father's  tremendously  upset." 

"I'll  go  to  him." 

"He  says  he  feels  that  the  family  is  breaking  up, 
that  the  past  which  has  been  so  jolly  has  come  to  an 
end ;  he  has  been  talking  to  me  in  the  study ;  he  told 
me  that  Arthur  asked  him  if  he  might  enlist." 

"Arthur?" 

"Yes,  he's  mad  to  go.  It  isn't  because  he  wants  to 
fight  like  Langton  for  something  or  other,  but  because 
he  says  he'd  love  to  have  a  whack  at  the  Boers." 

"What  did  your  father  say?" 

"He  wouldn't  hear  of  it." 

"I  should  think  not." 

"All  the  same,"  said  Sibyl,  "if  I  were  a  man  I  should 
feel  horrible  at  staying  behind ;  wouldn't  you  ?" 

"I  suppose  I  should.  But  Arthur  is  too  young.  One 
son  is  enough." 

"I  hope  Langton  will  come  back  with  a  Victoria 
Cross." 

"I  hope  he'll  come  back.  That  will  be  enough  for 
me. 

"Of  course.  But  I  mean  it  would  be  jolly,  wouldn't 
it,  if  he  made  a  tremendous  name  out  there?" 

"Yes,  of  course  it  would.  I'll  go  down  and  see  your 
father.    Where's  James?" 

"Don't  tell  any  one.  He's  writing  a  poem  in  his 
bedroom." 


CHAPTER  VI 

CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL 

AT  the  conclusion  of  the  war  in  South  Africa, 
Christopher  was  still  living  in  a  back  street  of 
Walworth,  studying  social  conditions. 

In  other  members  of  the  family  there  was  change. 
Langton  had  come  back  from  the  fighting  a  better 
soldier  than  ever,  and  now  commanded  a  troop  in  his 
regiment,  which  had  greatly  distinguished  itself.  He 
was  much  more  of  a  man,  quieter  and  gentler,  with  a 
certain  nobility  of  mind  which  made  itself  felt  even 
among  the  frivolous.  He  did  not  talk  so  openly  of 
his  church,  but  he  was  more  deeply  devoted  to  it  than 
ever,  and  took  trouble  to  see  that  the  men  in  his  troop 
were  given  the  chance  of  intellectual  and  moral  im- 
provement. He  was  so  excellent  a  sportsman  that  this 
religiousness  was  not  resented  by  his  brother  officers. 
Sibyl  was  engaged  to  be  married.  No  one  could  have 
better  pleased  the  family  than  the  man  of  her  choice — 
a  very  good  fellow  indeed,  and  so  devoted  to  country 
life  and  the  development  of  his  estate  that  no  city  had 
been  able  to  hold  him  long  enough  to  befog  his  com- 
monsense. 

53 


54  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

Arthur  was  settled  in  the  Temple,  developing  with 
extraordinary  rapidity  into  a  very  fashionable  man  of 
the  world.  His  knowledge  of  restaurants  was  almost 
comparable  with  that  of  the  late  Colonel  Newnham 
Davis;  his  youth,  good  looks,  cheery  temper,  and 
money  made  him  a  favorite  with  several  distinguished 
yoimg  people  in  the  theatrical  world ;  he  was  becoming 
a  leader  among  a  certain  set  of  golden  youth.  His 
father  said  of  him  that  he  should  never  quite  abandon 
hope  of  his  salvation  so  long  as  he  manfully  withstood 
the  temptation  of  wearing  an  eye-glass. 

James  had  just  gone  up  to  Oxford,  and  was  as 
modest  and  charming  as  ever,  but  rather  inclined  to 
wear  careless  ties  and  to  let  his  hair  grow  longer  than 
Langton  considered  either  healthy  or  correct.  He  was, 
however,  so  entirely  unconscious  of  these  things  that 
he  offended  no  one  by  his  eccentricities.  There  was  a 
feeling  in  the  family  that  he  was  marked  out  by  nature 
for  distinction  in  literature. 

Although  profoundly  thankful  for  Langton's  safe 
return  from  the  war,  so  thankful  that  unknown  to  any- 
one but  his  wife  he  gave  a  thousand  pounds  to  the 
hospital  fund,  old  Mr.  Sterling  viewed  all  these  changes 
in  his  family  with  a  poignant  regret. 

"Ah,  my  dear,"  he  would  say  to  his  wife,  taking  her 
hand  and  holding  it  affectionately,  "all  our  joys  lie  in 
the  past,  never  to  return  to  us.  How  jolly  it  all  was 
when  the  children  were  young!  IVe  seen  many  fam- 
ilies, but  none  ever  came  up  to  ours  for  unity  and  affec- 


CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL         55 


ion  and  simple  happiness.     From  the  day  of  Chris- 

)pher's  birth  it  was  heaven  on  earth.    I  used  to  think 

)metimes  of  the  day  when  the  young  ones  would  fly 
Lway  and  leave  us  alone,  but  I  never  imagined  it  would 
)e  as  bad  as  this.  How  they  all  hung  together !  What 
)eautiful  children  they  were !  And  now  the  world  has 
jot  them,  and  they  are  scattered,  all  scattered." 

He  told  her  on  one  occasion  that  unless  James  came 

ito  the  bank  he  would  find  it  very  hard  to  go  on. 
"Christopher  has   left   me,   apparently    for  nothing; 

mgton  has  left  me  for  the  army;  Arthur  hates 
inance  and  thinks  he  will  make  a  figure  for  himself 
It  the  Bar;  there's  only  James  left — and  he's  writing 
)oetry." 

*'But  you  used  to  write  poetry,  too,"  she  interrupted. 

"Mine,"  he  repHed,  "was  the  poetry  out  of  which 
len  grow ;  but  James's  is  the  poetry  which  is  bom  in 

le  soul  and  goes  on  growing  for  ever.  I'm  very  much 
ifraid  indeed  that  he  has  got  the  root  of  the  matter 

him.  We  have  had  literary  men  in  Lombard  Street, 
to  name  only  Samuel  Rogers  and  Walter  Bagehot,  but 

have  grave  doubts  that  James  is  not  of  their  robust- 
less.  He  strikes  me  more  and  more  as  too  feminine 
Eor  finance;  I  feel  that  he  has  something  of  Shelley 

his  soul.    That  would  never  do  in  Lombard  Street." 

"Arthur  ought  to  have  joined  you,"  she  replied; 
'perhaps  he  will  in  the  end." 

"No.  Arthur  has  no  soul.  He's  a  delightful  animal : 
■'m  immensely  fond  of  him:  but  to  love  the  mystery 


56  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

of  finance,  and  so  to  understand  it,  a  man  must  have 
a  soul  like  a  priest.  You  have  no  idea  how  full  of 
mystery  is  this  business  of  banking.  The  rise  and  fall 
of  prices — if  one  could  only  solve  that  baffling  prob- 
lem! But  Fm  boring  you.  I  fear  there's  a  danger 
that  I  may  become  a  crank.  You  must  take  me  to  a 
theater.  What  a  pity  that  Penley  is  not  here  to  make 
me  forget  that  our  children  have  flown  away  from  us, 
and  that  the  past  is  the  past." 

One  day  he  asked  her  to  go  and  see  Christopher  and 
to  persuade  him,  if  possible,  to  return  from  his  long 
sojourn  in  the  slums.  "Try  to  get  him  back  to  us," 
he  kept  saying. 

Mrs.  Sterling  had  been  on  several  occasions  to  see 
Christopher  in  his  lodgings,  and  on  almost  every  visit 
had  endeavored  to  get  him  home  to  his  own  world; 
but  she  felt  now  that  the  time  had  come  when  she  must 
speak  to  him  with  real  directness,  even  perhaps  going 
so  far,  so  unfairly  far,  as  to  appeal  to  him.  She  set 
off  in  a  resolute  frame  of  mind. 

When  she  arrived  at  those  dismal  lodgings,  Chris- 
topher was  out.  The  very  slatternly  but  kind  and  quite 
cheerful  landlady,  invited  her  to  enter,  saying  that  if 
Mrs.  Sterling  would  like  a  cup  of  tea  while  she  was 
waiting,  why,  it  wouldn't  take  her  a  minute  to  pop  on 
the  kettle  and  boil  a  little  water,  that  it  wouldn't.  Mrs. 
Sterling  said  she  would  prefer  to  wait  for  her  son's 
return. 

These  rooms  of  his  were  furnished,  thanks  to  his 


CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL    57 

lother,  with  some  degree  of  taste.  She  had  gradually 
mcceeded  in  displacing  the  furniture  of  the  landlady 
^ith  more  serious  articles,  and  had  also  provided  a 
lew  wall  paper,  a  carpet,  and  some  pleasant  hangings. 
[t  was  a  good-sized  parlor  on  the  ground  floor  with 
[folding  doors  to  a  somewhat  smaller  bedroom  at  the 
)ack. 

Here  Mrs.  Sterling  waited  for  half  an  hour  before 
'hristopher  returned. 
He  had  grown  much  graver,  and  had  lost  everything 
[of  youthfulness.     He  was  inclined  to  stoop,  walked 
without  spring,  and  spoke  with  an  increasing  slowness, 
[weighing  all  his  words.    His  face  was  still  extremely 
landsome,  but  without  softness  of  any  kind;  it  was 
le  face  of  one  who  suffered,  of  one  who  was  weighed 
[down  by  a  burden.     But  the  greatest  change  in  his 
face  was  the  appearance  there  of  strength,  as  though 
(his  diffidence  and  self-distrust  had  retired  before  the 
slowly  assembling  forces  of  his  will — ^his  will  or  an- 
other's which  controlled  him. 

For  some  months  now  he  had  been  acting  as  tutor 
fto  certain  young  men  in  that  dismal  neighborhood  who 
wanted  to  escape  from  it  by  the  road  of  education. 
He  had  become  so  interested  in  this  work  that  he  had 
(Conceived  the  idea  of  persuading  men  from  the  Uni- 
versities to  follow  his  example,  so  that  throughout  all 
the  working-class  quarters  of  London  there  might  be 
these  ambassadors  of  culture,  living  exactly  as  their 
neighbors  lived,  unattached  to  any  church  or  society^ 


58  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

privately  in  their  own  rooms  teaching  those  who  wished 
to  learn,  spreading  in  little  circles  the  saving  gospel  of 
knowledge.  He  had  never  been  so  grateful  for  his 
culture  as  during  these  past  months  of  slum  tutorship. 

When  they  had  greeted  he  left  her  for  a  moment  to 
get  the  tea,  saying  that  he  had  grown  to  dislike  the 
idea  of  ringing  a  bell.  When  he  returned  with  the 
tray,  Mrs.  Sterling  could  not  help  smiling,  so  serious 
and  concentrated  was  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"I  am  improving,"  he  said,  putting  down  the  tray. 
"Although  the  milk  is  more  than  usual,  I  haven't 
spilled  a  drop." 

While  they  were  at  tea  she  told  him  that  his  father 
missed  him  dreadfully,  and  wanted  him  to  come  back. 
She  said  this  without  any  break  in  their  conversation, 
and  with  no  particular  force  fulness. 

"I  begin  to  think,"  he  replied,  "that  I  shall  never 
leave  this  place.    I  am  striking  root." 

"That  would  be  a  calamity,  wouldn't  it?" 

"No.    I  do  not  think  it  would  be  a  calamity." 

"Well,  to  us  it  would  be  a  calamity." 

"Would  it  be  a  calamity,"  he  asked  her,  "if  you  knew 
that  I  was  really  finding  myself?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"Shall  I  try  to  tell  you?" 

"Do.    We  haven't  had  a  real  talk  for  a  long  time." 

"A  real  talk !"  he  said  slowly.  "Isn't  it  strange  how 
difficult  we  find  it  to  talk  of  the  inmost  realities  ?" 

"It's  only  want  of  practice." 


CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL         59 

"Yes,  and  something  more.  There's  no  language 
for  the  realities." 

"Tell  me  what  you  can." 

He  sat  back  in  his  chair,  with  hands  in  his  lap,  and 
began  to  speak  without  looking  at  her,  his  eyes  looking 
down  at  his  hands:  "I  came  here,  as  you  know,  to 
study  things,  to  observe,  to  analyze,  to  reflect.  For  the 
last  six  months  I've  been  doing  something  else.  I've 
been  identifying  myself  with  the  oppressed,  trying  to 
become  one  of  them.  I  don't  speak  any  longer  of  *the 
poor.'  I  call  them  the  oppressed,  and  I  wish  to  be  one 
of  them.  I  do  not  mean  that  they  are  oppressed  by 
oppression,  though  some  of  them  are ;  I  mean  that  they 
are  oppressed  by  the  system  of  things  which  exists  be- 
cause no  one  can  alter  it  from  without.  I  mean,  too, 
that  they  are  oppressed  by  themselves.  They  will  not 
look  for  happiness  in  the  right  direction.  They  are 
all  looking  the  wrong  way.  It's  quite  extraordinary 
how  determined  they  are  in  looking  the  wrong  way. 
If  by  living  among  them  and  becoming  one  of  them  I 
could  influence  two  or  three  to  look  in  the  right  way 
I  should  be  far  happier  than  if  I  were  in  the  House  of 
Commons  voting  for  measures  which  will  make  no 
difference  to  anyone,  or  voting,  simply  because  my 
party  tells  me  to  do  so,  against  measures  which  might 

I^erve  humanity." 
V  She  said  to  him,  *T  think  you  exaggerate  the  bad 
side  of  politics,  but  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  the  right 


6o  ^    CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"Shall  I  surprise  you/'  he  said,  "by  saying  that  I 
am  reverting  to  the  principles  of  some  of  my  ances- 
tors :  there  were  Quakers  in  the  family,  weren't  there  ?" 

"You  are  becoming  a  Quaker  ?" 

"Yes." 

"What  attracts  you  to  them?" 

"You  know  the  stress  Langton  lays  on  the  apostolic 
succession  in  the  traditions  of  the  Catholic  Church? 
I  see  the  value  of  that  in  the  case  of  loyalty  to  an  in- 
stitution. It's  quite  intelligible.  What  appeals  to  me 
in  the  Quakers  is  their  insistence  on  the  continuity  of 
revelation  down  all  the  centuries  and  on  the  witness 
of  the  inner  light.  Their  apostolic  succession  is  not 
mechanical:  it's  the  succession  of  inspired  men  who 
have  continually  appeared  to  carry  humanity  forward ; 
and  their  ritual  is  not  the  mechanical  ritual  of  the  altar, 
but  the  communion  of  the  individual  spirit  with  God 
in  the  silence  of  self -surrender.  Langton's  loyalty  is 
to  an  institution,  the  Quaker's  loyalty  is  to  a  Person. 
And  I  am  certain  of  this,  yes  I  am  really  quite  certain 
now,  that  this  Person,  Jesus  the  Christ,  reveals  the  will 
of  God." 

She  began  to  feel  a  new  emotion  stirring  in  her 
heart.  She  could  not  tell  what  it  meant.  She  only 
knew  that,  looking  at  her  son  and  loving  him  with  a 
mother's  indestructible  sense  of  possession,  she  was 
conscious  of  enmity  for  some  power  which  came  be- 
tween her  heart  and  her  son's  life.  She  found  it  hard 
to  repress  her  feelings.     If  she  had  spoken  it  would 


CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL        5f 


r 

'^^rhaps  have  been  to  say  bitter  words  of  these  Quak- 
ers.   But  before  she  could  speak  he  looked  up  at  her 
||id  said: 
"Suppose  that  it  is  the  truth :  Jesus  revealed  the  will 
f  God.    It's  tremendous,  isn't  it?" 
She  felt  her  will  paralyzed  by  his  gaze. 
I  "If  it's  true,"  he  went  on,  "think  what  it  means, 
t's  the  way  out.    But  think  what  it  means  merely  to 
believe  that  Jesus  meant  what  he  said.    That's  revela- 
tion enough.    But  to  believe  that  he  actually  did  reveal 
the  will  of  Gk)d — what  can  we  say  of  that?    It's  beyond 
words." 

"Do  you  believe  that?" 

He  replied  after  a  moment,  "Yes,  with  all  my  heart, 
I^BRrith  all  my  mind,  and  with  all  my  soul."    Then  he 
^^ftiid,  "That  is  what  has  happened  to  me." 
I^H  "But,  Christopher,"  she  said,  leaning  towards  him, 
^Byou  don't  mean  that  you  accept  his  teaching  literally?" 
^^  "That's  it.    That's  the  revelation.    I  do." 
"But  it  means  anarchy." 
"No;  this  is  anarchy." 

"Isn't  that  unfair?    Isn't  it  unfair  to  call  a  more  or 

is  unsatisfactory  stage  of  evolution  by  the  name  of 

archy?" 

I  begin  to  think  that  the  term  evolution  is  more  full 

i  misguidance  than  any  other  word  in  the  language. 

o;  I  don't  believe  in  that  kind  of  evolution.    We  are 

lot  getting  better ;  we  are  not  producing  a  higher  type 

of  creature ;  we  are  avoiding  hardness  and  producing 


62  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

feebleness.  I  don't  call  the  present  conditions  a  stage 
in  evolution.  I  call  them  an  indictment  of  materialism. 
They  represent  man's  effort  to  serve  the  two  masters 
of  human  destiny.  Our  condition  is  one  of  chaos  and 
anarchy.  Yoii  can't  have  order  in  this  world  without 
the  one  essential  principle  of  unity — man's  will  sur- 
rendered to  the  will  of  his  Creator.  Anarchy  is  every- 
where. The  human  race  is  going  in  the  wrong 
direction." 

She  felt  all  her  hopes  dying  in  her  breast  and,  look- 
ing on  the  son  whom  she  loved  above  all  other  creatures 
on  the  earth  she  began  to  know  what  this  new  emotion 
meant  which  was  now  stirring  in  her  heart  with  a 
greater  insistence. 

"I'm  not  at  all  sure,"  she  said,  very  slowly,  "whether 
Jesus  has  not  ruined  more  fine  minds  than  any  one 
who  ever  lived." 

"But  how  few  have  obeyed  him  I" 

"It  is  impossible  to  obey  him.  That  is  why  you  have 
churches.  It  is  possible  to  obey  a  church:  impossible 
to  obey  Jesus.  Look  what  he  has  done !  Take  the  case 
of  Tolstoy.  A  great  artist  ruined  by  the  absurd  effort 
to  obey  the  impossible.  Consider  what  would  have 
been  the  world's  loss  if  Shakespeare  had  bartered  his 
sanity  for  a  hair  shirt  and  a  girdle.  Don't  you  see, 
Christopher,  that  an  idealist  like  Jesus  is  only  safe 
when  his  anarchy  is  brought  into  form  by  an  institu- 
tion? Don't,  I  beg  you,  ruin  your  life.  Don't  add 
another  wasted  mind  to  the  population  of  monasteries 


I 


CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL    63 


and  sects.  See  it  steadily.  The  world  couldn't  go  on 
if  people  tried  to  obey  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  There*d 
be  no  effort.  We  should  all  become  passivists.  We 
should  be  waiting  for  God  to  act.  Science  would  cease 
to  strive.  Everything  would  go  rushing  back.  The 
advance  of  civilization  would  become  a  rout  and  a  dis- 
aster. The  world  knows  this,  and  doesn't  dream  of 
obeying  Jesus.  Why  should  you  ruin  your  life  by 
attempting  it?  What  will  be  the  good?  Think  of  fifty 
years  hence.  What  do  you  hope  to  accomplish  ?  Will 
you  be  satisfied  fifty  years  hence  or  will  you  be  full  of 
remorse  ?  Will  you  be  blessing  the  name  of  Jesus  or 
cursing  it  ?  Don't  let  him  lead  you  away.  Don't  trust 
him.  Don't  ruin  all  your  splendid  prospects  in  the 
world  for  a  will-o'-the-wisp." 

Christopher  repeated  her  words,  "Don't  let  him  lead 
you  away.     Don't  trust  him."     Then  he  said  to  her, 
I  V^t  sounds  as  if  you  feared  him." 
Il^he  said,  *T  do.    I  fear  him.    And  if  he  ruins  your 
FK  I  think  I  shall  hate  him." 

"If  I  said  to  you,  I  will  give  up  this  life  and  return, 
to  your  world,  living  like  all  the  other  lucky  ones,  en- 
joying myself,  getting  all  the  pleasure  I  can  out  of 
Iljastence — if  I  said  that  you  would  be  pleased?" 
»Yes." 
KBut  if  I  say  to  you,  I  will  stay  here  and  help  the 
most  helpless  and  love  the  most  loveless,  you  would 
be  disappointed?" 
"Because  it  can  lead  to  nothing." 


64  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"And  you  would  hate  Jesus  ?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  should  hate  him." 

"Then  you  do  not  think  he  revealed  the  will  of 
God?" 

"Christopher,  do  you  really  believe  that  literally  he 
reveals  the  will  of  God?  Think  what  that  means.  He 
was  a  man,  and  he  lived  at  a  very  ignorant  period  of 
history,  and  his  teaching  was  addressed  almost  entirely 
to  simple  people.  Is  it  possible  to  suppose  that  every 
word  he  uttered  was  inspired  by  the  absolute  truth  of 
the  universe,  or  that  the  entire  human  race  was  sup- 
posed to  take  its  orders  from  him  for  all  time?  You 
can't  think  that.  His  general  ideas  were  very  beautiful, 
and  they  do  perhaps  approximate  to  the  ultimate  truth 
of  things.  But  you  can't  take  every  word  he  uttered 
as  a  revelation,  and  proceed  to  act  upon  it  as  a  divine 
command.  You  cannot  take  him  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder.  You  must  allow  for  his  upbringing,  the  lan- 
guage in  which  he  spoke,  the  condition  of  society  at 
that  time,  and  the  ignorance  or  the  craft  of  those  who 
repeated  his  sayings.  You  can  only  take  his  teaching 
as  a  pictorial  effort  to  express  an  ideal.  To  believe  in 
God  is  a  great  thing,  and  to  love  mankind  is  a  great 
thing :  this  is  what  he  asked  us  to  do,  and  this  is  what 
we  can  all  atternpt  to  do  without  stultifying  our  minds 
and  ruining  our  lives.    Don't  you  see  what  I  mean  ?" 

When  she  asked  this  question  she  put  out  her  hand 
and  touched  his  arm,  looking  at  him  with  supplication 
in  her  eyes.    It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  witnessing 


i 


ms 


CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL         65 


s  ruin,  seeing  him,  as  it  were,  drowning  in  the  midst 
of  the  sea,  watching  him  destroy  himself.  All  his 
genius  was  to  be  sacrificed,  all  his  manhood  thrown 
aside,  all  the  loveliness  and  promise  of  his  life  to  be 
sacrificed  for  the  most  impossible  idea  which  had  ever 
deluded  the  human  race. 

The  touch  of  her  hand  produced  a  noticeable  change 
in  Christopher.  His  gravity  lost  its  quality  of  stern- 
ness. He  regarded  her  with  a  look  which  was  almost 
beseeching.    She  could  see  that  he  trembled. 

Something  boyish  in  his  face,  reminding  her  of  his 
childhood,  reminding  her  of  days  in  which  he  lay  sleep- 
ing in  her  arms,  seemed  now  to  be  appealing  to  her^ 
asking  her  not  to  be  unfair. 

She  withdrew  her  hand,  and  sitting  back  in  her  chair 
said  to  him  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  was  as  matter  of 
fact  as  she  could  make  it,  "I  mustn't  worry  you.  I 
mustn't  at  any  rate  take  an  unfair  advantage.  Your 
life  is  your  own.    You  must  do  as  you  will." 

Soon  after  this  act  of  self -repression,  which  cost  her 
an  effort,  Mrs.  Sterling  took  her  leave. 

She  found  as  she  went  home  that  her  thoughts  were 
charged  with  bitterness.  She  was  conscious  of  a  real 
enmity  towards  Christ.  The  sight  of  two  Salvationists, 
smooth,  clean,  smiling,  and  perhaps  self-satisfied,  filled 
her  with  scorn.  In  passing  a  church  she  almost  spoke 
aloud  her  contempt  for  religion.  A  clergyman  walking 
with  his  wife  in  Oxford  Street  winced  under  her  glance 
and  said  to  himself,  "That  woman  is  an  atheist." 


(£  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

It  was  dreadful  to  her,  sane  and  capable  as  she  was, 
to  contemplate  the  sacrifice  of  Christopher's  intellect 
to  this  absurd  delusion.  What  a  ruin  it  was,  a  ruin 
of  the  finest  promise !  He  might  have  been  anything. 
He  might  have  taken  a  part  in  shaping  the  evolution 
of  the  human  race.  He  might  have  left  a  name  for 
the  world  which  would  have  been  like  a  beacon.  And 
instead  of  this,  he  had  become  a  monk  of  the  back 
streets. 

She  saw  Christ  as  a  tempter  of  men,  as  one  who 
stood  in  the  way  luring  youth  from  its  appointed  road 
and  leading  it  into  the  wilderness  of  disillusion,  leaving  I 
them  there  with  only  one  last  hope  for  their  consum- 
mation— the  hope  that  in  another  state  of  being  the 
faithful  soul  would  find  its  reward. 

How  many  lives  had  this  Christ  destroyed?  How 
many  men  who  might  have  been  great  discoverers  or 
divine  poets  or  heroic  statesmen  had  followed  this  de- 
ceiver into  his  inhuman  wilderness  of  self-destruction 
there  to  lose  the  very  likeness  of  men?  What  a  dis- 
aster to  mankind  this  Christian  religion  had  been,  in- 
terrupting the  real  business  of  life,  with  its  bloody 
wars,  its  monstrous  persecutions,  its  desolating  discus- 
sions of  dogma!  So  long  as  the  churches  set  up  a 
mystery  Christ  in  the  place  of  the  anarchist  Jesus,  she 
had  been  content  merely  to  smile;  so  long  as  those 
who  attempted  to  follow  Jesus  were  the  uneducated 
and  the  unimportant,  she  had  been  only  mildly  inter- 
ested ;  but  now  that  her  son  was  being  destroyed  by  this 


CHRISTOPHER  BEGINS  TO  TELL    67 

Line  Jesus  before  her  very  eyes,  she  was  full  of  a 
trong  anger  against  him. 

She  said  to  her  husband,  "I'm  afraid  we  must  make 
ip  our  minds  that  Christopher  will  stay  where  he  is 
tor  some  years." 

"But  that  is  ruin,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sterling.     "For 

)me  years!  Why,  it  is  almost  too  late  as  it  is,  and 
rou  speak  of  more  years.  What  on  earth  is  he  doing 
lere?" 

"Chasing  rainbows." 

"Where  does  he  get  it  from? — not  from  me,  not 
from  you.  I  am  a  most  prosaic  man  of  business.  You 
ire  the  most  sensible  woman  alive.  Where  on  earth 
loes  he  get  it  from  ?" 

She  was  on  the  point  of  saying  that  Christopher 
would  tell  him  he  got  this  madness  from  God,  but  she 
checked  herself,  and  replied,  "From  books." 


CHAPTER  VII 

JANE  FOYLE 

^inn  HERE  is  no  nation  like  ours,"  said  Mr.  Pom- 
X  mer.  "We  have  given  back  their  country  to 
the  Boers.  Do  you  think  the  Germans  would  have 
done  that  ?  No !  We  are  a  great  people ;  the  Germans 
are  a  little  people." 

"He's  quite  the  Englishman  now,  isn't  he?"  de- 
manded Mrs.  Pommer. 

"I  was  English  by  instinct  when  I  was  born,"  said 
her  husband.    "And  now  I  have  the  papers." 

"All  the  good  people  belong  to  one  nation,"  Chris- 
topher said  with  a  smile.  "It  is  unreasonable  to  divide 
men  and  women  up  according  to  the  flag  under  which 
they  happen  to  be  born." 

"From  a  child,"  said  Pommer,  "I  hated  the  Prus- 
sians. I  could  get  on  well  enough  with  the  Saxons 
and  Wurtemburgers ;  but  the  Prussian,  I  hated  him 
like  the  devil.  When  they  made  me  a  conscript  I  said 
to  myself,  This  is  enough* ;  and  I  tell  you  it  was  not 
six  months  after  my  military  service  that  I  came  to 
England.  What  a  change  for  me !  Here  I  was  a  free 
man.    Here  I  could  work  and  get  on.    Here  there  was 

68 


I 


JANE  FOYLE  69 


no  danger  that  my  sons  would  be  stolen  from  me.    My 

sons  are  Englishmen.     They  will  do  what  they  like. 

They  will  never  quail  before  an  arrogant  officer  or  a 

I  Brutal  sergeant.    Ha !  this  is  a  good  country  for  honest 

Ir"  . 

■■  At  this  point  there  entered  the  shop  a  slight  and 
l^vetty  girl,  very  demurely  dressed,  who  approached 
The  counter  rather  nervously,  as  though  she  was  con- 
scious of  interrupting  conversation. 

Pommer  moved  towards  her  anxious  for  business ; 
Christopher  turned  to  look  at  her,  interested  in  her 
appearance;  Mrs.  Pommer  remained  at  her  desk,  in- 
stinct telling  her  that  this  was  not  a  customer. 

"Would  you  be  so  good,"  asked  the  girl,  in  a  low, 
musical  voice,  "to  tell  me  the  way  to  Amicable  Alley  ?" 
Pomm.er's  eyebrows  went  up  to  his  forehead.  He 
looked  at  Christopher,  who  was  about  to  speak.  "Here 
is  a  gentleman,"  said  Pommer,  "who  knows  all  the 
little  streets  better  than  I  do.    Amicable  Alley,  where 

I  that?" 
"I  know  it  very  well,"  Christopher  said  to  the  girl ; 
ideed,  I  am  now  going  there  myself." 
"Perhaps  you  would  kindly  show  me  ?" 
"I  think  we  may  be  going  to  the  same  place." 
Her  eyes  brightened.    "Are  you  a  Friend?" 
"Yes." 

Very  charmingly  she  put  out  her  hand,  smiling  up 
at  him,  blushing  a  little  as  he  took  her  hand  and 
looked  at  her  with  undisguised  interest. 


70  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

She  was  like  a  child,  with  her  large  eyes  full  of 
wonder,  her  soft  skin,  and  her  gentle  lips  which  seemed 
as  if  they  could  never  become  firm  and  hard.  What 
made  her  engaging  to  Christopher  was  a  sense  of  ex- 
traordinary innocence,  or  a  perfectly  unblemished 
purity,  which  came  from  her  like  the  perfume  of  a 
child's  spirit.  Nothing  in  her  little  face  suggested 
knowingness.  In  her  manner  there  was  no  vestige  of 
self-assurance.  And  yet,  with  all  her  childlike  inno- 
cence and  all  her  gentle  pliancy,  there  was  something 
in  this  girl  which  he  felt  to  be  profound,  inexhaustibly 
profound,  something  which  was  now  seriousness  and 
might  one  day  become  grandeur.  He  was  conscious 
of  reverence  before  her. 

When  they  had  gone  out  of  the  shop  Mrs.  Pommer 
said  to  her  husband,  "I  believe  he'll  marry  that  young 
lady.  Did  you  see  how  he  stared  at  her?  What  a 
romance  if  he  does.    And  it  began  in  our  shop." 

"It  would  be  good  for  him,"  said  Pommer,  "to  be 
married.  But  how  can  he  marry,  seeing  he  has  no 
money,  and  does  no  work?" 

"He  must  have  a  little  or  he  couldn't  live." 

"That  is  his  ruin,  he  has  a  little,  and  so  he  does  not 
work.  My  children  shall  have  nothing  until  they  are 
earning  for  themselves — not  one  penny." 

Christopher  discovered  that  this  girl  was,  like  him- 
self, a  convert  to  the  Society  of  Friends.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  a  doctor  in  Streatham,  and  had  found  her 
own  way  into  the  Society,  much  against  the  wishes  of 


JANE  FOYLE  71 

ler  parents.     She  still  lived  with  them,  and  suffered 

little  at  the  hands  of  her  brothers  and  sisters,  who 

•egarded  her  as  a  prig.     But  she  had  been  so  happy 

;ver  since  she  became  a  Friend,  some  years  ago,  that 

jhe  did  not  complain  of  this  lack  of  sympathy  at  home. 

She  told  Christopher  that  she  had  been  asked  to  join 

the  Friends'  mission  in  Amicable  Alley,  and  that  this 

ras  her  first  visit.     She  was  rather  afraid.     She  was 

lot  at  all  sure  she  possessed  the  qualifications   for 

[working  among  the  poor.    She  had  never  been  in  the 

ilums.    She  had  first  joined  the  Friends  in  Croydon 

[where  an  old  shoolfellow  of  hers  lived,  and  where 

[everybody  was  more  or  less  well-off.     However,  she 

wanted  very  much  to  work  among  the  poor  and  so  she 

was  determined  to  do  her  very  best  at  the  mission  in 

Amicable  Alley. 

"How  extraordinary,  wasn't  it,"  she  exclaimed  in 
her  demure  way,  "that  you  should  have  been  in  that 

I  shop?" 
"Well,  I  sometimes  think  that  there  is  more  direction 
in  life  than  we  realize." 
*'0h,  I  believe  that  too !    When  one  looks  back,  and 
sees  how  a  chance  acquaintance  or  an  accidental  jour- 
ney affects  one's  whole  life — ^tell  me,  do  you  come 
down  often  to  the  mission?" 
.  .       "I  live  close  by." 

'What !  do  you  live  here  ?" 

'Yes,  in  the  slums." 

Then  you  are  one  of  the  officials,  I  suppose?" 


^2  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"No ;  Tm  one  of  the  latest  recruits,  quite  a  humble 
person." 

"But  you  aren't  one  of  the  poor  people  ?" 

"Yes,  one  of  them." 

She  was  puzzled,  and  after  a  moment  asked  if  he 
was  in  business  there.  When  he  told  her  that  he  did 
a  little  teaching  among  his  neighbors  she  began  to  think 
that  he  was  a  schoolmaster,  and  that  superior  education 
accounted  for  his  good  manners  and  the  very  pleasant 
tones  of  his  voice. 

After  the  meeting  he  volunteered  to  show  her  the 
quickest  way  to  the  railway  station,  and  walking  there 
he  told  her  his  name  and  asked  her  to  tell  him  hers. 
She  replied  that  her  name  was  Jane  Foyle.  He  in- 
quired how  often  she  would  come  to  the  mission.  She 
said  that  she  hoped  to  come  twice  a  week. 

"Perhaps  you  will  like  it  so  well  that  you  will  want 
to  live  here,"  he  said,  glancing  down  at  her. 

"I  am  afraid  my  parents  would  object." 

"I  do  not  think  much  good  can  be  done  visiting  these 
oppressed  people  from  outside." 

"I  don't  quite  understand." 

"I  think  one  can  only  be  of  real  service  when  one 
is  a  person's  friend,  an  intimate  friend ;  and  friend- 
ship is  impossible  between  unequals." 

"I  should  love,"  she  said  impulsively,  "to  give  up 
everything  and  live  among  these  people.  That  is  what 
I  want  to  do — ^to  give  up  my  whole  life  to  the  service." 

"Then  surely  you  will  do  it." 


JANE  FOYLE  73' 

"But  how  can  I  do  it,  if  my  people  object?" 
"You  mean  that  you  do  not  care  to  pain  them?" 
"That,  and  other  things.     How  should  I  live,  for 
stance?" 
"I  see." 

"But  I  should  love  to  do  it.    I  should  love  nothing 
tter." 

"Then  you  may  be  sure  that  you  will  do  it." 

Christopher  saw  a  great  deal  of  Jane  Foyle.    After 

ler  first  week  at  the  mission  she  would  come  to  the 

lorough  early  in  the  morning,  and  he  would  take  her 

ibout  with  him  into  the  houses  of  his  friends.     He 

lew  people  of  every  religion  and  of  no  religion.    He 

as  acquainted  with  a  great  number  of  parents  who 

.d  mentally  deficient  children,  his  work  among  these 

ildren  making  him  intimate  in  their  houses.    He  had 

lone  of  Jane's  quick  tact  and  little  of  her  infallible 

[tuition,  but  people  loved  him  because  they  felt  him 

be  sincere.    He  was  accepted  by  nearly  everybody 

as  one  of  themselves,  and  nobody  ever  expected  him  to 

K've  them  money. 
One  day  when  their  friendship  had  ripened,  Chris- 
pher  suggested  that  Jane  should  take  him  home  to 
eet  her  parents.  She  seemed  a  little  alarmed  at  this 
jproposal,  but  an  invitation  was  arranged  a  few  days 
^^fcfterwards.  This  visit  began  badly.  Mrs.  Foyle  was 
^^wiffy.  She  had  taken  elaborate  pains  with  her  rai- 
'^^ent,  not  to  please  this  unknown  visitor  from  the 
slums  but  to  overawe  him.    Jane's  sisters  were  aggres- 


74  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

sively  slangy,  and  aggressively  worldly.  Their  conver- 
sation was  aimed  at  Christopher,  whom  they  took  to 
be  a  common  person,  disastrous  to  the  family's  reputa- 
tion in  Streatham.  They  spoke  as  if  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil  were  three  excellent  institutions, 
and  as  if  only  vulgar  people  would  dream  of  calling 
them  in  question. 

After  tea,  which  was  served  with  a  wanton  display 
of  silver,  Mrs.  Foyle,  a  stout,  puffy-faced,  and  much 
powdered  person,  began  to  put  Christopher  through  his 
paces.  She  had  round  eyes,  full  of  insolence  and  un- 
rest, with  a  prim  mouth  and  a  chin  which  was  like  a 
down  pillow  in  a  child's  perambulator. 

"I  don't  quite  understand,"  she  said,  *'your  connec- 
tion with  this  mission  in — what  is  the  place  ?" 

"The  Borough." 

**Yes,  the  Borough.  Are  you  one  of  the  mission- 
aries ?" 

"No;  one  of  the  congregation." 

"My  daughter  tells  me  you  live  in  Walworth." 

"Yes." 

"Why  do  you  do  that?" 

"It  isn't  a  bad  place  to  live  in." 

"You  can't  be  serious." 

"But  I  am." 

"I  should  have  thought  a  man  of  your  education 
would  have  wanted  to  live  where  you  would  meet 
educated  people." 

"You  see,  I  want  to  better  myself." 


JANE  FOYLE  75 


^^HAnd  I  find  that  Walworth  betters  me." 
^^*What  on  earth  do  you  mean?    My  daughter's  de- 
scription of  the  streets  and  the  people  is  appalling — 
perfectly  appalling." 

KI  assure  you  that  Walworth  is  full  of  the  most 
oic  people  in  the  world.  Their  courage  surpasses 
anything  on  the  battle-field.  The  women  are  extra- 
ordinarily brave.  It  is  quite  a  mistake  to  regard  people 
of  that  kind  as  barbarous." 

One  of  the  sisters  began  to  play  a  song  from  a  pop- 
ular comic  opera,  and  another  sister  to  sing  this  song, 
which  necessitated  action.  The  singer  wore  a  jaunty 
hat  very  much  on  one  side  of  her  head,  and  it  was 
ridiculous  to  see  how  this  big  hat  shook  and  slipped 
about,  as  she  lifted  her  arms  to  click  her  fingers  to- 
gether on  either  side  of  her  head,  swinging  from  the 
hips  as  she  did  so. 

Christopher  was  about  to  take  his  leave  when  Dr. 
Foyle  returned  from  his  rounds.  If  Mrs.  Foyle  had 
been  hufify,  the  doctor  was  downright  rude.  He  re- 
garded Christopher  with  a  frank  annoyance,  addressed 
no  word  to  him,  and  showed  by  his  manner  to  Jane 
that  he  thoroughly  disapproved  of  her  action  in  bring- 
ing her  humbug  and  crankiness  into  the  family  circle. 
He  was  a  little  pot-bellied  man,  with  fish-like  eyes,  a 
big  curtain  of  red  moustache,  and  a  partially  bald  head 
which  was  as  white  as  paper — in  striking  contrast  to 
the  florid  complexion  of  his  face. 


76  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

To  hear  this  little  person  speak  you  might  have 
thought  him  the  ultimate  authority  on  every  question 
of  intellect.  He  was  a  born  dogmatist.  He  had  all 
the  confidence  of  materialistic  science  with  all  the  in- 
tolerance of  institutional  religion.  People  who  did  not 
agree  with  him  were  rogues  or  fools — one  or  the  other. 

He  was  so  rude  to  Christopher,  taking  him  for  a 
common  person  from  a  common  part  of  London,  that 
Christopher  was  amazed,  never  before  in  his  life  hav- 
ing come  against  such  an  arrogant  form  of  rudeness. 
The  doctor  had  his  suspicions  that  this  common  person 
was  intruding  to  get  his  daughter's  affection,  and  he 
was  resolute  to  stop  such  a  monstrous  disaster  at  the 
outset. 

When  Christopher  rose  to  go,  the  doctor  said  to  him, 
"I  should  like  to  have  a  word  with  you,"  and  led  the 
way  from  the  room. 

Christopher  shook  hands  with  the  rest  of  the  family, 
and  followed  the  doctor. 

Everything  in  this  house  grated  upon  his  nerves. 
The  drawing-room  was  vulgar  enough  with  its  pre- 
tentiousness, but  the  hall,  crowded  with  what  the 
dealers  call  massive  furniture  and  hung  with  the  heads 
of  deer,  filled  him  with  disgust. 

The  doctor  stood  waiting  for  him  in  the  consulting- 
room,  a  small  apartment  in  which  green  plush  fur- 
niture held  its  own  against  a  very  ugly  roller-top  desk 
of  fumed  oak.  The  mantelpiece  was  crowded  with 
brass  ornaments. 


JANE  FOYLE  17 

_  I  don't  understand,"  said  the  doctor,  standing  on 
the  hearth-rug,  his  thumbs  in  the  openings  of  his  waist- 
coat, *'what  this  mission  of  yours  is  attempting  to  do. 
Is  it  something  in  the  nature  of  the  Salvation  Army, 
or  what  is  it?" 
IB"To  begin  with,  it  isn't  my  mission,"  said  Chris- 
™pher.     "Fm  only  one  who  attends  its  services  and 
helps  a  little  in  its  work.     But  its  object  is  to  give 
people  the  light  of  religion." 
"May  I  ask  what  you  are?" 

"I  am  what  you  see  me,  a  young  Englishman :  noth- 
ing more." 

"Do  your  parents  live  in  Walworth?" 
"No." 
;       "What  is  your  father?" 
^^■"He  is  in  business." 

■  "And  you  do  nothing,  I  understand?" 
H"I  teach  a  little." 

■  "But  you  have  no  regular  employment?" 
"No." 

I  Ik  "I  should  imagine  that  your  father,  if  he  is  a  busi- 
Bess  man,  cannot  be  altogether  satisfied  with  your 
position.  However,  that  is  no  aifair  of  mine.  What 
I ^^ wish  to  say  to  you  is  this :  we  are  thoroughly  out  of 
■^^mpathy  with  this  fad  of  my  daughter's.  We  regard 
it  as  ridiculous.  We  have  no  objection  to  Quakers, 
but  we  don't  want  Quakerism,  and  particularly  mis- 
sionary Quakerism,  introduced  into  our  home.  I  think 
you  ought  to  know  this.    I  don't  expect  you  to  dissuade 


78  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

my  daughter  from  going  on  with  what  she  calls  her 
work,  but  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  let  it  be  known 
at  the  mission  we  do  not  want  any  of  its  members 
coming  here.    That's  all  IVe  got  to  say." 

Christopher  smiled.  "You  make  it  difficult  for  me 
to  say  what  I  intended  to  say  to  you  in  a  few  weeks' 
time,  if  you  had  been  kind  enough  to  ask  me  to  come 
again." 

The  doctor  stared  at  him. 

"I  was  going  to  ask  your  consent,"  Christopher  went 
on,  "to  my  engagement  with  your  daughter." 

"That  is  out  of  the  question." 

"I  am  sorry." 

"So  long  as  my  daughter  lives  under  my  roof,  that 
consent  will  never  be  given." 

"Again,  I  am  sorry." 

"And  let  me  say  this,  I  regard  it  as  intolerable  that 
a  man  in  your  position  should  presume  to  think  of 
marriage." 

"Might  I  explain  that  I  have  enough  to  provide  for 
a  wife,  that  is  to  say  in  a  humble  manner?" 

"Then  you  had  better  look  for  a  wife  among  those 
who  are  used  to  living  in  a  humble  manner." 

"But  does  one  look  for  a  wife  after  he  has  found 
the  woman  he  loves  ?" 

"Have  you  spoken  to  my  daughter?" 

"No." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

"But  I  have  the  right  to  speak  to  her." 


I 


JANE  FOYLE  79 


"Let  me  tell  you  that  I  am  astounded  at  your 
audacity.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  something  of 
an  adventurer.  But  I  warn  you  of  this :  not  one  penny 
does  my  daughter  get  from  me,  and  never  again  shall 
she  enter  my  house,  if  she  marries  against  my  will." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken  in  supposing  that  I  am 
seeking  your  daughter's  fortune." 

"I  hope  I  am." 

"On  the  contrary,  if  she  accepted  me  as  her  husband 

it  would  be  to  share  my  life  of  poverty,  and  to  break 

every  connection  which  held  her  to  a  life  of  comfort. 

She  would  have  to  become  one  of  those  whom  you 

I  call  the  poor." 

I      **You  are  a  fanatic,  then?" 

"Well,  that  is  something  better  than  an  adventurer." 

Pfhe  doctor  studied  Christopher  with  more  interest. 
A  fanatic  is  a  dangerous  person,"  he  said  slowly. 
"Jt  might  be  safer  to  marry  one's  daughter  to  a  rogue." 
ut  what  is  your  definition  of  a  fanatic?"  asked 
Hstopher. 

"An  extremist,  one  who  lacks  balance,  one  who  is 
without  the  normal  restraints  of  intelligent  people." 

"It  used  to  mean,"  said  Christopher,  "one  filled  with 
divine  enthusiasm.    The  very  word  enthusiast  signifies 
one  filled  with  the  spirit  of  God." 
"Are  you  going  to  preach  to  me?" 
In  asking  this  question  the  doctor  permitted  himself 
to  smile. 

"I  should  like  to  ask  you  a  question,"  said  Chris- 


8o  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

topher.  He  drew  a  step  nearer,  and  proceeded,  "If 
a  man  for  whom  you  had  prescribed  disregarded  your 
prescription  or  only  followed  that  part  of  it  which  he 
found  convenient,  would  you  say  he  was  a  sensible 
person  ?" 

"That  depends  on  the  prescription."  He  laughed, 
turning  about  for  a  moment,  and  then,  coming  back  to 
Christopher,  smiling.  "I  see  what  you  are  at.  You're 
speaking  of  the  prescription  of  Christ.  Mr.  Sterling, 
I  should  as  soon  think  of  swallowing  poison  as  taking 
that  prescription  whole." 

"Then,  of  course,  you  can  understand  neither  your 
daughter's  position  nor  mine." 

"Perhaps  not." 

"And  yet  as  a  rational  man  you  will  agree  that  your 
daughter  is  more  honest  and  more  sensible  than  those 
who  protest  their  belief  in  this  physician  and  do  not 
do  what  he  tells  them  to  do." 

"What  does  he  tell  them  to  do?" 

"To  give  up  their  darkness  that  they  may  be  filled 
with  his  light." 

"I  see." 

"Does  that  sound  very  absurd  to  you?" 

"I  have  heard  it  before." 

"But  you  think  it  foolish?" 

"Not  altogether  foolish.  But  quite  mad  if  acted 
upon  to  the  stultification  of  reason  and  will.  I  have 
thought  these  things  out,  Mr.  Sterling.  I  have  also 
been  a  student  of  what  is  called  lunacy.    If  you  will 


JANE  FOYLE  8i 

allow  me,  I  will  prescribe  for  you.  Get  rid  of  your 
darkness  by  all  means ;  that  is  to  say,  open  your  mind 
to  invisible  influences  which  none  of  us  yet  understand : 
use  silence,  and  meditation,  and  prayer  as  much  as  you 
like:  but  exercise  your  reason  and  exert  your  will. 
Personality  is  something  not  to  be  played  with.  It  can 
be  drugged,  blurred,  blotted  out.  You  cannot  safely 
commit  it  to  the  governance  of  a  disputable  hypothesis. 
But  nothing  I  can  say  will  alter  your  resolution.  You 
have  passed  that  stage.  You  are  now  in  the  crisis  of 
your  disease.  All  I  can  do  is  to  counsel  you  to  keep 
the  fever  down.     Use  your  reason." 

He  put  out  his  hand,  not  unkindly,  and  looked  at 
Christopher  with  a  certain  compassionate  interest. 

"Will  you  allow  me,"  said  Christopher,  "to  say  two 
things  ?  I  won't  keep  you.  I  will  be  very  brief.  One 
is  that  I  regard  Jesus  with  the  admiration  of  my  whole 
intellect,  convinced  of  his  wisdom  and  his  reasonable- 
^^Bss,  not  feeling  towards  him  any  of  those  emotions 
which  are  characteristic  of  sentimental  worship.  The 
other  thing  I  wish  to  say  is  more  difficult.  It  is  this. 
You  refuse  to  consent  to  my  engagement  to  your 
daughter;  may  I  say  that  I  feel  I  have  a  right  to  ap- 

Ioach  her  without  that  consent?" 
"You  are  honest,  even  if  you  do  not  practice  the 
if -sacrifice  enjoined  upon  you  by  your  Master." 
"Dr.  Foyle,  you  know  that  your  daughter  cannot  be 
happy  in  this  house ;  why  do  you  want  to  keep  her  in 
it?    Like  me  she  has  given  up  the  world.    Why  don't 


82  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

you  let  her  go  ?  She  will  never  look  back.  Her  heart 
is  crying  out  for  the  life  of  devotion.  Believe  me,  heri 
heart  is  breaking  for  it.  Surely  you  will  let  her  follow 
her  Master.  What  wretchedness  for  her  if  you  stand 
between  her  and  the  fulfilment  of  her  most  sacred 
desires." 

The  doctor  was  about  to  make  answer  when  the  door 
opened  and  Mrs.  Foyle  entered  the  room.  She  seemed 
surprised  to  find  Christopher  still  there. 

"Mr.  Sterling,"  said  the  doctor,  putting  out  his  hand 
once  more,  "I  have  nothing  to  add  on  that  head  to 
what  I  said  before.    I  wish  you  good-bye." 

He  then  turned  to  his  wife.  "Yes?"  he  inquired, 
demanding  why  she  had  come  to  him. 

Christopher  bowed  to  Mrs.  Foyle  as  he  passed,  and 
went  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


CHRISTOPHER  PROPOSES 


ONE  very  beautiful  morning  in  July  Christopher 
suggested  to  Jane  that  they  should  take  a 
holiday. 

"I  haven't  seen  the  country,"  he  said,  "for  over  three 
years.  Tm  hungering  for  a  sight  of  it.  It  will  do  us 
both  good." 

He  took  her  to  a  station  in  Surrey,  some  five  miles 
from  King's  Standing,  and  climbing  the  hills  they 
walked  in  that  direction.  Christopher  had  provided 
himself  with  a  small  luncheon  basket  from  Pommer's 
shop  and  they  proposed  to  eat  this  meal  on  the  hills 
before  returning  to  the  station. 

She  saw  new  things  in  him  as  they  breasted  the  hill. 
He  was  as  quiet  and  restrained  as  ever,  but  deep  down 
in  his  heart  was  a  fervency  of  happiness  which  showed 
in  his  smile  and  in  the  tones  of  his  voice.  He  con- 
fessed to  her  that  the  country  was  his  greatest  tempta- 
tion, told  her  how  he  loved  it,  said  that  he  felt  it 
restored  to  him  all  the  innocencies  of  childhood,  quoted 
to  her  lines  from  Wordsworth  and  Matthew 
Arnold  which  had  always  haunted  him,  and  en- 
ded by  the   cry  of,  "If  it  were  only    possible!'* 

83 


84  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

They  picked  flowers  as  they  went,  often  stood  still 
to  look  at  the  panorama  of  beauty  stretched  out  before 
them,  took  off  their  hats  to  let  the  sun  and  the  air  get 
at  their  faces,  exclaimed  again  and  again  at  the  wonder 
and  loveliness  which  they  shared  together  all  alone. 

Then  he  began  to  speak  about  her  life.  He  loved 
this  little  spirit  with  a  depth  of  feeling  which  some- 
times surprised  him  by  its  passion.  She  was  exquisitely 
dear  to  him,  precious  beyond  any  living  thing,  so  sweet 
was  her  nature,  so  tender  her  heart,  and  so  beautiful 
her  ways.  Her  spirit  animated  her  body.  The  pretti- 
ness  of  her  eyes,  the  smile  of  her  gentle  lips,  the  soft 
tones  of  her  voice,  came  from  this  spirit,  making  her 
graciousness  a  living  thing. 

There  was  nothing  in  her  face  which  came  there 
from  an  ancestor  who  had  truly  lived  and  deeply  loved, 
as  he  had  felt  must  be  the  case  with  Violet  Fanning. 
Her  eyes  were  not  the  eyes  of  the  dead,  but  the  eyes 
of  a  living  soul.  Behind  all  her  physical  beauty, 
matching  it  at  every  point,  was  her  spiritual  beatity. 
Her  voice  was  the  voice  of  her  mind,  every  tone  of  it ; 
sounding  from  the  thoughts  which  made  that  mind  so  | 
fine  and  beautiful  in  his  eyes.  He  loved  her  body  and 
soul,  with  no  duality  in  his  own  mind  because  her  body 
was  the  expression  of  her  soul.  There  was  nothing 
he  wished  away  in  her  soul,  and  nothing  he  wished 
away  in  her  body.  She  was  the  child  of  innocence, 
and  beauty,  and  truth  of  whom  he  had  dreamed  in  his 
nonage,  the  wonderful  and  harmonious  girl  of  his  hun- 


CHRISTOPHER  PROPOSES 


85 


gering  worship.    In  her  he  found  everything  for  which 
le  solitude  of  his  heart  had  prayed. 
The  unhappiness  of  her  life  troubled  him,  and  he 
^as  determined  that  it  should  end.    He  could  not  bear 
think  of  her  in  that  home  which  had  no  sympathy 
rith  her  finest  longings,  that  home  which  was  so  pom- 
[pous,  and  false,  and  second-rate,  so  self-satisfied  in  its 
[suburban  worldliness.     She  must  be  rescued.     She 
mst  be  given  the  life  of  her  desires. 
'You  could  be  as  happy  here  as  in  Walworth?"  he 
[asked  her. 

'I  was  just  thinking  how  I  should  like  to  have  a 
jottage  where  I  could  take  in  children  from  the  Bor- 
Ipugh  and  Walworth." 

"But  would  you  be  happier  still  in  Walworth  or  the 
Jorough  ?" 
"Oh,  yes ;  I  should  soon  cry  out  for  the  dark  streets, 
le  back  courts,  and  the  brave  people." 
"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that?" 
"Yes ;  that  is  the  place  where  I  would  always  be." 
"Would   you  choose   that  life   even   if   it   meant 
)verty?" 

"But   I   love   poverty.     Anything   else   makes   me 
ishamed.     You  love  poverty,  don't  you?    You  don't 
[want  to  be  rich  ?" 

"No ;  I  don't  want  to  be  rich." 
They  walked  for  some  time  in  silence.  Then  he  said : 
"Will  you  let  me  ask  you  to  share  my  life  ?    I  want  to 
jhare  yours.  I  love  you,  Jane.  Let  us  share  life  together." 


86  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

She  felt  for  his  hand  as  it  swung  between  them  and 
held  it  in  hers,  saying  to  him,  "I  love  you  so." 

They  did  not  stop.  He  raised  his  face  to  the  sky, 
smiling,  and  said,  "God  be  blessed  for  this  happiness." 
Then,  turning  to  her,  and  bending  down  towards  her, 
he  said  very  softly,  "Little  Jane,  dear  little  Jane,  you 
have  filled  my  heart  with  the  richest  happiness." 

"I  knew  that  you  loved  me  long  ago,"  she  responded ; 
"but  I  feared  that  you  might  fight  against  it  as  a 
temptation." 

"God  made  me  too  human  for  solitude,"  he  an- 
swered. "I  have  wanted  you  long  before  I  loved  you. 
I  have  wanted  you  from  my  schooldays.  I  have  always 
wanted  you,  little  Jane." 

He  stopped  and  bent  down  his  head  to  her  upraised 
face.  "I  am  so  glad  I  have  found  you,"  he  breathed. 
"It's  like  finding  one's  way  after  being  lost  for  a  long 
while."  And  then  he  kissed  her,  holding  her  face  in 
his  hands. 

When  they  came  to  that  part  of  the  hills  from  which 
they  looked  down  upon  his  home,  he  suggested  to  her 
that  they  should  rest  and  eat  their  meal.  They  had 
been  speaking  of  their  plans  for  the  future,  and  had 
decided  that  they  should  be  married  at  once,  whether 
or  not  Jane's  parents  gave  their  consent.  This  was 
settled  before  they  sat  down,  and  now  over  their  meal 
they  were  like  happy  children. 

Presently  she  said  to  him,  "Perhaps  I  could  earn 
money,  too,  by  teaching,  or  even  by  needlework." 


CHRISTOPHER  PROPOSES  8;^ 

"But  there'll  be  no  need,"  he  replied,  patting  her 
hand.    "Don't  you  know  that  I'm  a  very  rich  man?" 

"No,"  she  said,  smiling;  "I  didn't  know  that." 

"Guess  how  rich  I  am?" 

"Eighty  pounds  a  year?" 

"More  than  that." 

"A  hundred?" 

"You're  getting  warmer." 

"A  hundred  and  ten?" 

"Go  on." 

"But  you're  beginning  to  frighten  me.  I  like  to  think 
of  you  as  poor.  You  aren't  really  rich,  are  you  ?" 

"Yes,  as  things  go  in  Walworth.  Let  me  see:  we 
shall  have  about  three  pounds  a  week.  That's  a  lot 
of  money,  isn't  it?" 

She  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  said :  "We  can 
give  away  what  we  don't  spend.  Let's  agree  never  to 
have  a  shilling  over  at  the  end  of  each  week.  Don't 
you  think  that  would  be  splendid?  Then  we  should 
still  be  poor.  We  shouldn't  feel  ashamed.  But  is  your 
three  pounds  a  week  certain?  Is  there  no  need  for 
us  to  save?" 

"No ;  none.    It's  as  safe  as  the  Bank  of  England." 

"Then  you  don't  need  to  teach  ?" 

"No;  I  only  teach  to  help  boys  who  want  to  go  to 
the  university.  I  charge  Pommer  something  because 
it  does  him  good  to  pay ;  and  what  he  gives  me  I  give 
away.  I  don't  charge  any  of  the  others.  They  come 
to  me  and  I  love  to  read  with  them.    At  first  I  thought 


I 


S8  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

I  would  do  nothing  else  but  this,  and  at  one  time  I 
thought  of  getting  other  Varsity  men  to  come  down 
and  live  among  the  oppressed,  as  honorary  tutors. 
Why  shouldn't  we  give  our  learning  as  well  as  our 
money?  I  shall  still  do  this  if  you  will  let  me.  But 
there  are  other  things  to  do  as  well.  Since  I  joined 
the  Society  I  have  found  out  what  those  other  things 
are.    Still,  we'll  go  on  with  our  tutoring." 

"Were  you  at  a  university?" 

*'Yes;  I  went  to  Oxford." 

"Sometimes  I  think  you  have  had  a  most  romantic 
past.  You  aren't  a  prince  in  disguise,  are  you?  Tell 
me  about  your  past.    Tell  me  everything." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  after  kissing  it  held  it  and 
stroked  it  as  he  spoke  to  her.  "My  father  is  a  man 
of  business:  my  mother  is  a  splendid  woman,  strong 
and  capable:  I  have  three  brothers  and  a  sister.  Mj 
brothers  are  all  doing  what  my  parents  expected  then 
to  do.  I  am  like  you  at  least  in  this  that  I  have  dis- 
appointed my  parents.    I  have  broken  away." 

"Suppose  they  should  beg  you  to  go  back?" 

"I  have  made  my  choice." 

"But  they  might  implore  you." 

"I  shall  never  go  back." 

"You  frighten  me.  I  do  not  like  your  account  oi 
your  family,  I  believe  they  are  rich  people.  I  shoulc 
be  so  frightened  if  they  came  and  took  you  away.  ] 
should  be  so  unhappy  amongst  rich  people.  Do  the} 
live  in  London?" 


I 


CHRISTOPHER  PROPOSES  89 


"Yes." 

"Whereabouts?" 

"In  Portman  Square." 

"That  sounds  as  though  it  belongs  to  the  world  of 
ashion." 

"You  are  afraid!  Don't  be  afraid.  I  shall  never 
;o  back,  and  I  was  content  with  Walworth  before  you 
ame;  think  what  it  has  been  to  me  since,  and  what 
t  is  going  to  become  now." 

She  said  to  him,  "We  will  always  live  with  the  op- 
>ressed,  side  by  side  with  them,  won't  we? — always, 
Iways." 

"I  could  not  be  happy,  even  with  you,  anywhere 
Ise." 

"That  makes  me  happy.  Oh,  that  makes  me  so 
lappy.    I  will  trust  you  to  the  end  of  my  days." 

When  they  were  going  he  checked  her  for  a  moment 
'.nd  said,  "I  want  you  to  look  at  that  white  house  down 
)elow  in  the  dark  trees." 

"I  have  been  looking  at  it." 

"It  is  a  very  dear  place,  with  gardens  of  enchant- 
nent  round  it,  and  most  lovely  woods  on  every  side, 
md  in  the  midst  of  the  woods  there  is  a  lake  of  in- 
describable beauty  —  so  beautiful  in  the  dawn,  and 
more  beautiful  still  v»'ith  the  moon  shining  on  it.  That 
place  is  my  home.  It  is  called  King's  Standing.  I 
was  bom  there.  I  know  every  rod  of  it.  I  came  back 
to-day  on  purpose  to  look  at  it.  I  wanted  you  to  see  it. 
For  that  place,  if  you  wished  it,  would  belong  to  us. 


90  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

I  am  the  eldest  son,  and  my  father  wishes  me  to  inherit 
the  property.  He  is  a  rich  man,  Jane,  very  rich,  and 
a  good  man  too,  full  of  kindness.  But  if  you  agree 
I  want  to  renounce  my  rights  as  his  eldest  son.  I  want 
to  give  up  everything  to  my  second  brother  and  to  live 
always  with  the  oppressed  as  one  of  them.  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  this  several  months  ago,  and  now  my 
faith  is  firmly  fixed.  I  must  do  it.  I  can't  be  at  rest 
till  it  is  done.  You  will  agree  with  me  that  it  is  right  ? 
You  don't  want  that  house  and  great  riches,  do  you? 
Neither  of  us  has  any  talent  for  the  role  of  philan- 
thropist. Our  only  chance  is  to  give  up  ever)^hing 
and  be  one  with  our  neighbors." 

She  looked  at  this  old  home  of  her  lover  with  no 
desire  in  her  eyes,  but  with  a  feeling  of  fresh  fear  in 
her  heart.  It  seemed  to  separate  him  from  her.  He 
came  to  her  from  another  world.  She  had  thought  of 
him  in  the  early  days  of  their  acquaintance  as  one 
somewhat  lower  in  the  social  scale  than  herself,  a 
strangely  refined  and  interesting  man,  but  one  who  had 
known  poverty  all  his  days.  To  find  out  that  she  was 
below  him  in  the  social  scale,  to  discover  that  he  had 
made  infinite  sacrifices  for  religion,  and  that  for  re- 
ligion he  now  contemplated  so  great  a  renunciation  as 
this  surrender  of  his  birthright,  filled  her  with  a  sense 
of  such  inferiority  as  made  her  afraid. 

"I  am  going  to  the  oppressed  from  a  home  where 
I  was  unhappy,"  she  managed  to  say,  clinging  to  his 
hand  Hke  a  child  making  a  confession ;  "but  you  have 


CHRISTOPHER  PROPOSES  91 

^  given  up  everything,  you  have  made  the  great  renun- 
ciation. Am  I  worthy  of  your  love?  Are  you  quite 
sure  you  love  me?  I  am  afraid.  You  have  made  me 
(afraid." 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  kissing  it.  "You 
[mustn't  think  I  am  making  any  sacrifice,"  he  said, 
[firmly.  "I  should  hate  to  be  rich.  I  should  be  ashamed 
:  to  be  rich.  It  is  to  ease  my  conscience,  to  escape  from 
junhappiness,  that  I  am  doing  this.  Don't  you  see  that 
[you  and  I  are  following  one  Master,  and  that  therefore 
lour  feet  must  travel  together  on  the  same  road?  It  is 
because  our  thoughts  are  the  same  that  we  love  each 
other.  We  are  what  we  are  to  each  other  because  we 
are  both  fanatics." 

Then  they  set  off  on  their  walk  back ;  they  were  full 
of  the  deepest  happiness,  dreaming  that  nothing  ill 
could  befall  them. 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE   LAST   APPEAL 


CAPTAIN  STERLING  was  so  excessively  busy 
at  Aldershot,  where  the  new  military  reforms 
were  in  operation,  that  nothing  but  the  urgency  of  his 
mother's  summons  would  have  brought  him  to  London. 

This  summons  spoke  of  a  crisis  in  the  affairs  of 
Christopher,  and  declared  that  something  in  the  nature 
of  a  family  council  was  urgently  required  to  meet  the 
situation. 

Langton  was  on  the  staff  of  a  particularly  keen 
cavalry  general,  and  he  was  working  night  and  day 
with  the  greatest  possible  enthusiasm  to  achieve  the 
perfection  of  his  particular  division.  The  order  had 
gone  forth  from  the  War  Office,  after  years  of  mud- 
dling and  fiddling,  that  the  British  Army  was  to  pos- 
sess an  Expeditionary  Force  of  superlative  excellence, 
every  part  solidly  compacted  in  the  whole,  the  entire 
Force  ready  in  a  moment  to  be  shot  like  an  arrow  to 
its  destination.  A  thinking  department  had  been  set 
up  in  Whitehall :  the  British  Army  for  the  first  time 
in  its  history  possessed  a  Chief  of  the  Staff;  keen 
soldiers,  like  Langton  Sterling,  realized  with  thankful- 

92 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  93 

less  that  the  days  of  decorative  militarism  were  at 
m  end. 

Captain  Sterling  wanted  conscription,  and  in  certain 
noods  would  condemn  statesmen  for  shunning  what 
le  termed  the  inevitable,  always  declaring  that  nothing 
"culd  be  better  for  democracy  than  a  brisk  soldierly 
draining;  but  when  he  was  challenged  to  say  whether 
icr  a  conscriptionist  Army  he  would  barter  the  British 
expeditionary  Force,  composed  of  long  service,  well- 
,easoned,  and  highly  disciplined  troops,  he  usually 
32,cked  down,  so  intense  was  his  admiration  for  this 
professional  Army. 

To  leave  his  great  work  at  Aldershot,  where  you 
:ould  hear  the  hammering  of  the  rivets,  even  for  a 
pouple  of  days  in  town  was  something  of  a  sacrifice 
;o  Captain  Sterling. 

He  got  unwillingly  into  mufti,  and  drove  to  the  sta- 
jion  with  his  face  at  the  window,  watching  the  soldiers 
kt  their  work  in  the  camp. 

When  he  reached  his  home  in  Portman  Square  it 
was  to  find  his  two  brothers,  Arthur  and  James,  in  the 
lirawing-room  with  his  mother — Mrs.  Sterling  looking 
^ery  careworn  and  even  harried.  It  struck  Langton 
:hat  this  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  he  had  missed 
In  his  mother's  appearanc*^  a  certain  trimness  which 
pad  always  seemed  to  express  something  of  her  mental 
Competence. 

•■    As  he  went  forward  to  greet  his  mother  he  noticed, 
foo,  that  Arthur  had  acquired  a  look  of  softness,  and 


94  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

that  James  had  the  cut  of  eccentric  people  who  affe 
picture  galleries  and  museums.  He  held  himself  moi 
vigorously,  as  though  to  rebuke  this  drawing-roo: 
degeneration  of  Sterling  manhood. 

After  kissing  his  mother  on  both  cheeks,  he  turne 
and  put  out  his  hand  to  Arthur :  "You're  getting  vei 
like  Corney  Grain,"  he  said,  with  a  short  smile,  tl 
eyelids  drawing  back  a  little  as  he  inspected  this  be 
viveur.  "What's  your  weight,  my  dear  fellow  ?  Wl 
don't  you  join  the  Territorials  ?"  Then  he  shook  banc 
with  James,  holding  the  boy's  hand  more  affectionate 
and  regarding  him  with  less  sternness.  "How  do  yc 
like  the  bank,  little  Jim?  More  auriferous  than  Pa 
nassus,  but  not  so  alluring,  eh  ?  That's  the  word,  isr 
it,  alluring f    Never  mind:  you  are  doing  your  duty 

James  was  indeed  doing  his  duty.  None  of  h 
brothers  was  less  unfitted  for  the  extremely  difficu 
work  of  finance,  and  to  few  of  them  could  the  mechai 
ical  routine  of  a  City  existence  have  been  more  irl 
some.  But  because  his  mother  had  pleaded  to  hi 
while  he  was  at  Balliol,  telling  him  how  strongly  h 
father  longed  to  have  a  son  at  his  side  in  the  ban 
James  had  given  up  the  secret  hungerings  of  his  hear 
and,  with  so  cheerful  a  countenance  that  he  deceive 
not  only  his  father  but  actually  his  mother,  he  hj 
announced  his  desire  to  become  a  banker. 

When  the  greetings  were  over,  Mrs.  Sterling  spol 
to  Langton  of  the  reason  which  had  urged  her  to  a 
him  to  town. 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  95 

"I  have  had  a  most  extraordinary  letter  from  Chris- 
topher," she  began;  "you  shall  read  it  for  yourself 
later  on,  but  I  can  summarize  it  for  present  purposes. 
It  begins  by  announcing  his  engagement  to  be  married ; 
[the  girl,  he  tells  me,  is  like  himself,  a  convert  to  Quak- 
erism; she  appears  to  be  the  daughter  of  a  suburban 
doctor;  and  then  he  goes  on  to  say  that  he  wishes  to 
renounce  all  his  rights  as  eldest  son,  having  made  up 
his  mind  to  live  a  life  of  poverty  among  the  poor." 

"Amazing  I"  exclaimed  Arthur,  from  the  ease  of  a 
low  chair. 

Langton  was  standing  by  the  mantelpiece,  erect  and 
stem,  the  very  perfection  of  physical  fitness,  his  hand- 
some face  quick  with  a  soldier-like  alertness. 

"Have  you  seen  him  ?"  he  asked  his  mother. 

"Not  since  I  received  his  letter." 

"Have  you  answered  it?" 

"Only  to  acknowledge  it,  saying  that  I  must  discuss 
it  with  him  after  I  have  consulted  with  his  father  and 
brothers." 

"What  does  father  say?" 

"He  says  that  perhaps  it  is  for  the  best." 

"You  see,"  said  Arthur,  swinging  his  foot,  "father 
very  rightly  thinks  that  it  would  be  a  calamity  for  the 
property  to  go  to  an  eccentric  who  would  probably 
give  it  to  the  Salvation  Army  the  next  minute." 

Langton  was  thinking  hard.  He  was  the  heir,  if 
Christopher's  intention  was  carried  out.  He  would 
carry  on  Sterling  traditions.    The  family  should  not 


96  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

degenerate.  He  would  see  to  it  that  noblesse  oblige 
meant  something  real  to  future  generations  of  the 
family.  All  the  same,  what  a  frightful  catastrophe, 
what  a  disastrous  calamity,  this  fad  of  the  brilliant 
Christopher. 

He  looked  for  a  long  time  at  his  mother,  sitting 
careworn  and  unhappy  on  the  sofa  close  beside  him; 
then  his  gaze  went  to  Arthur,  but  rested  there  only  a 
moment;  and  then  to  James,  who  was  sitting  on  an 
upright  chair  by  a  table,  his  right  hand  lifting  and 
letting  fall  the  cover  of  a  book,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
fireplace. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  Langton  said,  "that  we  ought  to 
summon  Christopher  here." 

"What  for?"  demanded  Arthur. 

"I  fear  it  would  be  no  use,  Langton,"  said  Mrs. 
Sterling  with  a  sigh.  "I  am  sure  his  mind  is  resolute 
on  the  subject." 

"It*s  madness,"  said  Langton,  with  decision.  "It's 
the  idea  of  a  madman.  I  always  feared  that  Chris- 
topher would  come  a  cropper  over  religious  realism. 
His  mind  was  ruined  at  school.  They  made  him  a 
logician.  He  doesn't  know  what  religious  feeling  is : 
all  he  knows  is  the  logic  of  the  text.  He's  one  of  those 
fellows  who  would  subvert  the  whole  social  order  by 
making  out  that  our  Lord  was  a  socialist.  What  a 
crash,  for  a  fine  mind."  He  turned  to  his  mother, 
"And  what  a  disappointment  for  you." 

"Yes,  he  has  disappointed  me." 


I 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  97 


She  made  this  admission  in  a  low  voice,  with  her 

I^es  lowered,  and  only  James  realized  perhaps  how 
uch  was  contained  in  it.  The  boy  got  up  presently, 
alked  over  to  Langton,  said  something  about  Chris- 
pher,  and  then  sitting  down  beside  his  mother  on  the 
sofa  slipped  his  arm  through  hers. 

"I  still  think,"  said  Langton,  "that  Qiristopher  ought 
to  be  here.  We  ought  to  see  him.  We  ought  to  repu- 
diate his  suggestion  to  his  face;  we  ought  to  make  it 
perfectly  clear  that  in  our  opinion  the  step  he  con- 
templates is  a  grave  dereliction  of  duty.  He  is  the 
eldest  son.  He  cannot  shift  his  responsibilities.  It's 
perfectly  monstrous  that  he  should  think  about  it." 

Mrs.  Sterling,  taking  James's  hand,  said  that  nothing 
could  come  of  such  a  conference.  "Christopher,"  she 
went  on,  "has  told  me  that  he  wishes  to  break  abso- 
lutely with  his  former  connections.  He  has  begged  me 
never  to  ask  him  here.  He  tells  me  in  this  letter  that 
he  does  not  want  any  of  us  to  come  to  his  marriage. 
His  mind  is  quite  made  up.  He  desires  not  merely 
to  live  among  the  poor  but  at  all  points  to  identify 
himself  with  them.  He  says  he  is  quite  sure  that  it  is 
impossible  for  him  to  give  his  affections  in  their  com- 
pleteness to  these  people,  as  he  wishes  to  do,  if  he 
makes  any  attempt  to  live  what  he  describes  as  a 
double  hfe." 

"He's  quite  mad,"  cut  in  Langton. 

"Of  course  he  is,"  laughed  Arthur;  "mad  as  a 
hatter." 


98  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"I  don't  think  one  ought  quite  to  say  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Sterling. 

"But,  my  dear  mother,"  Langton  expostulated,  "to 
give  up  his  future,  to  break  with  his  family,  and  to 
live  in  a  slum,  merely  because  he  misunderstands  a  few 
texts  in  the  Bible — isn't  this  the  act  of  a  madman?" 

"Don't  you  think,"  said  James,  going  red,  smiling 
awkwardly,  and  stammering  a  little,  "that  it's  rather 
unfair  to  say  he  misunderstands  his  Bible?  I  mean, 
I  don't  agree  with  him  for  a  moment,  but  I  think  we 
ought  to  say  that  he  understands  the  New  Testament 
in  a  way  we  don't  understand  it,  and  that  whether  he 
is  right  or  we  are  right  no  one  can  say.'* 

Then  followed  a  lively  dispute,  Langton  holding 
forth  with  great  eloquence  on  the  value  of  a  catholic 
tradition  to  correct  all  these  aberrations  of  the  relig- 
ious conscience,  Arthur  getting  a  word  in  edgeways 
to  express  the  convenience  of  commonsense  agnosti- 
cism, and  Mrs.  Sterling  speaking  every  now  and  then 
a  word  in  defence  of  Christopher. 

In  the  evening  the  family  council  deliberated  once 
again,  this  time  with  the  help  of  old  Anthony  Sterling. 
It  was  finally  decided  that  Mrs.  Sterling  should  pay  a 
visit  to  Christopher  on  the  following  day,  and  that  in 
the  meantime  Langton  should  prepare  himself  to  as- 
sume the  responsibilities  of  eldest  son. 

"All  I  would  ask  of  you,"  said  old  Anthony,  "and 
I  know  I  have  only  to  ask  it  to  rely  upon  its  being 
carried  out,  is  this,  that  you  should  all  hold  yourselves 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  99 


I 

■Bcadiness  to  provide  for  dear  Christopher  when  I 
lam  gone,  in  the  event  of  his  coming  to  himself."  Then, 
I  with  a  sudden  jerk  of  the  head,  the  face  blanching, 
land  the  lips  twitching  for  a  moment,  he  added,  "I  have 
already  removed  Christopher's  name  from  my  will  in 
case  of  accidents." 

The  next  moment,  liveliness  itself,  the  old  gentle- 
man was  rallying  Langton  on  being  the  eldest  son. 

"You  must  get  married,"  he  said,  pleasantly;  "and 
don't,  I  beg  you,  go  hunting  about  in  the  suburbs  for 
the  daughters  of  physicians.  Elizabeth,  we  must  give 
some  parties." 

"I  assure  you,  sir,"  said  Langton,  "I'm  far  too  busy 
just  now  to  think  of  marriage." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense,  my  dear  fellow !" 

"No,  sir ;  it's  not.  You  have  no  idea  how  hard  the 
Army  is  working  just  now." 

"But  suppose  the  Church  ordered  you  to  get 
riarried?" 

"Ah,  that  would  be  a  different  matter!" 

"Would  you  take  any  lady  the  Bishop  chose  for 
you?" 

"No,  sir,  I'm  hanged  if  I  would." 

On  the  following  day  Mrs.  Sterling  went  down  to 
Walworth. 

Christopher  was  reading  with  a  young  compositor, 
who  worked  at  night  in  the  office  of  a  newspaper,  a 
Quaker  of  nineteen,  very  pale,  goggle-eyed,  and  long- 
haired, who  was  consumed  with  a  desire  for  learning. 


100  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"Vm  interrupting  you,  Christopher,"  said  Mr 
Sterling. 

"We  were  just  finished.  I  am  glad  you  have  com 
Let  me  introduce  you  to  my  friend  Tom  Hurrell." 

When  Tom  Hurrell  had  departed  Christopher  sai 
to  his  mother,  standing  by  her  side  on  the  heartt 
"You  haven't  come,  I  hope,  to  dissuade  me?" 

"That  would  be  quite  hopeless,  Christophe 
wouldn't  it?" 

He  stood  looking  at  her  for  some  moments  in  sileno 
"It  would  distress  me  to  remember,"  he  said  at  las 
"that  my  mother  wanted  me  to  turn  back." 

"You  are  quite  sure,  let  me  at  least  ask  this,  the 
what  you  purpose  to  do  is  wise,  or  rather  that  it 
inevitable  ?" 

He  replied  affirmatively,  by  movements  of  his  heac 
still  regarding  her  very  intently,  almost  with  sorrov 

"It  is  a  great  renunciation,  Christopher." 

The  word  renunciation  seemed  to  awaken  him.  B 
started  at  it.  He  held  himself  a  little  less  loosel; 
There  came  a  quicker  intelligence  into  his  eyes. 

"I  beg  you  not  to  think  of  it  in  that  way,"  he  sai 
earnestly.  "I  must  have  expressed  myself  very  bad! 
if  you  think  for  a  moment  that  what  I  purpose  to  d" 
what  I  have  done,  is  in  the  nature  of  a  sacrifice, 
would  be  a  sacrifice  if  I  gave  up  this  life  and  retume 
to  the  other.  That  would  be  an  act  of  renunciatior 
it  would  be  the  renunciation  of  my  soul  and  of  ir 
Master." 


I 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  lo: 


i 


He  raised  his  hands  and  toucljed  her'  artns  y»?ry' 
gently,  just  holding  them,  a  smile  showing  slowly  in 
his  face :  "It  must  seem  odd  to  you,  mother,  but  truly 
I  love  this  life.  I  love  it  more  than  I  have  ever  loved 
y thing.  There's  no  renunciation.  I'm  simply  em- 
cing  the  life  which  enables  me  to  live  most  fully. 
m  quite  happy.  All  the  same,  don't  think  I'm  un- 
grateful for  the  past.  I  could  no  more  forget  your  love 
than  I  could  hate  those  beautiful  days.  They  were 
very  beautiful  days,  and  you  were  their  good  angel." 

Once  more  as  she  regarded  him,  gray-faced,  stoop- 
ing, sorrowful-looking,  and  so  grave,  there  came  back 
the  memory  of  his  brilliant  boyhood  and  the  memory 
of  her  dreams  for  his  future.  Once  more,  too,  there 
came  back  to  her  a  feeling  of  antagonism  towards 
hrist,  a  feeling  of  great  bitterness  afnd  indignation, 
king  her  face  hard  as  she  looked  up  at  her  son  whom 
is  dreamer  had  ruined. 
When  did  I  cease  to  be  your  good  angel?"  she 
ed. 

He  whitened  a  little  and  seemed  to  flinch. 
"Tell  me  that?"  she  asked,  with  the  tone  of  a  com- 
nd. 

'Imperceptibly  the  spirit  finds  its  way  to  the  light," 
made  answer,  letting  his  hands  sink  slowly  to  his 
e. 

In  a  moment  her  hands  were  at  his  arms,  and  all 
e  mother  in  her  soul  surged  into  her  face,  which  she 
essed  close  to  his.    "Christopher,"  she  cried,  "don't 


103-  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

•you'  see  thai  I'm*  your  good  angel  now?  Look  at  me. 
What  would  I  not  do  for  you  ?  Can  you  think  of  any- 
thing I  would  not  do  to  save  you  an  hour's  pain  ?  You 
know  I'd  gladly  kill  myself.  And  Christ — ^this  Christ 
your  thoughts  have  created — this  Christ  who  never 
existed — this  dream  figure  of  an  age  which  the  modem 
intellect  has  finished  with  once  and  for  all — Christo- 
pher, Christopher,  what  can  he  do  for  you?" 

He  did  not  strive  to  draw  back  from  her,  but  con- 
tinued quietly  to  gaze  into  her  eager  eyes,  which  were 
filling  with  passion,  as  though  he  would  soothe  her 
spirit  with  quietness.  This  calm  on  his  part  seemed 
to  intensify  her  feelings,  and  she  addressed  him  with 
even  greater  passion : 

"If  you  were  starving,  would  he  bring  you  bread? 
If  you  were  in  pain,  would  he  heal  you?  Ask,  ask; 
he  has  told  you  to  ask.  You  know  he  will  not  give: 
you  know  you  will  not  receive.  It  isn't  true,  Chris- 
topher. Try  him.  Put  him  to  a  test.  Ask  for  some 
hungry  person  in  these  streets  to  be  filled,  some  incur- 
able to  be  healed,  some  evil  person  to  be  made  virtuous. 
Try  him  for  six  weeks.  Pray  every  day,  pray  night 
and  day,  and  judge  him  by  the  result.  Don't  you  see 
you're  following  a  delusion?  You  yourself  have  cre- 
ated this  Christ  by  thinking  of  him.  There  is  no  Christ. 
There  never  has  been.  You  are  sacrificing  your  life 
to  a  phantom.  Think  what  life  is — ^how  short,  how 
inexorable.  If  you  could  hope  to  achieve  anything  by 
this  action  I  would  not  resist  you.     But  nothing  will 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  103 


Iie  of  it,  Christopher.    Nothing — ^nothing  will  come 
it.    It  will  be  just  the  same  with  everything  when 
you  come  to  die.    Every  idealist  thinks  he  will  achieve 

t revolution.  He  achieves  nothing.  What  did  Francis 
[  Assisi  accomplish?  What  is  his  influence  on  our 
orld?  What  do  men  of  science  care  about  him,  and 
ventors,  or  statesmen — what  do  they  care?  He  has 
ade  no  difference.  You  will  make  no  difference. 
Don't  you  see,  Christopher,  you're  under  the  spell  of 
an  illusion  ?  Your  Christ  isn't  real.  He's  no  more  real 
than  Apollo.  He's  one  of  the  many  slain  gods  of  the 
past ;  he's  only  that.  You  think  he's  real,  that  he  lives, 
that  he  hears,  that  he  acts.  So  does  the  Indian  think 
of  his  gods.  All  believers  think  their  gods  are  real. 
But  all  the  gods  that  men  have  worshipped  are  false. 
We  are  ruled  by  law — only  by  law,  there's  nothing  else 
in  the  universe  that  we  can  understand  except  law. 

K/'hy  do  you  fall  out  of  the  ranks  just  when  humanity 
beginning  to  march?  Why  will  you  desert  your 
lUow-men?  Why  will  you  go  back  to  the  deserted 
tar?  Wake,  Christopher,  wake !  I'm  trying  to  wake 
you  from  a  dream.  I  want  you.  You  belong  to  me. 
Break  these  snares,  make  your  way  out  of  the  dream ; 

time  back  to  me,  come  back  to  the  real  world." 
All  the  time  she  had  been  speaking,  straining 
wards  him,  holding  him  with  firm  hands,  he  had 
remained  looking  into  her  eyes  with  the  same  sorrow- 
ful regard,  as  though  filled  with  compassion  for  her. 
But  when  she  said  "You  belong  to  me,"  and  when  with 


104  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

a  sudden  access  of  such  passion  as  he  had  never  seen 
before  she  cried  out  to  him,  "Come  back  to  me,  come 
back  to  the  real  world,"  he  went  very  white  and  began 
to  rock  on  his  feet. 

She  held  him  firmly,  and  speaking  in  her  softest 
tones,  a  smile  in  her  wet  eyes  and  on  her  lips,  said  to 
him:  "If  you'll  only  see  that  it's  all  a  case  of  self- 
deception,  self-suggestion — if  you'll  only  see  that,  my 
son!  Ah,  Christopher,  it  needs  but  one  swift  and  re- 
morseless assertion  of  your  reason  to  destroy  this 
delusion — make  it,  tnake  it,  make  it  now.  It's  a  lie, 
my  son,  a  lie.  That's  all  it  is.  A  lie  from  the  past. 
A  lie  that  destroys  the  reason.  Look  truth  in  the  face. 
She's  much  fairer  than  this  lie:  she's  beautiful,  she's 
noble,  she's  faithful — look  her  fearlessly  in  the  face: 
say  to  yourself,  I'll  be  a  man !  Christopher,  wake  from 
your  dream.    Wake,  my  darling  boy." 

Every  line  in  her  face  appealed  to  him:  all  the  age 
that  had  gathered  there  and  all  the  fading  away  of 
her  girlhood  meant  to  him  something  inexpressibly 
sacred  which  searched  his  heart  for  pity.  She  had 
given  her  life  for  her  children.  The  world  had  set 
none  of  those  lines  in  her  face.  Every  mark  there  had 
been  the  work  of  her  devotion  and  self-sacrifice.  This 
woman's  face  uplifted  to  him,  beautified  by  reason  of 
its  love,  was  the  face  of  his  mother,  at  whose  breast 
he  had  fed,  in  whose  arms  he  had  lain,  and  round 
whose  neck  he  had  flung  his  arms  to  weep  away  his 
childish  griefs.    It  was  dreadful  to  him,  shocking  his 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  105 

whole  nature,  to  contemplate  this  face,  which  was 
I  sacred  to  him,  and  to  feel  that  her  spirit  could  not 
Li||derstand  him. 

■■''Mother,"  he  said  to  her,  very  gently,  his  voice 
IHmbling,  and  his  eyes  filling  with  sudden  tears,  "you 
'nave  asked  me  to  put  my  Master  to  a  test.  I  want 
to  tell  you.  I  have  done  that.  I  have  asked.  I  have 
received.  I  asked  for  light,  and  light  has  come.  I 
asked  for  peace,  and  peace  has  been  given.  I  asked 
for  love,  and  love  is  mine,  deeper  than  the  sea,  higher 
than  the  stars.  It  is  no  lie.  It  is  no  delusion.  These 
things  are  known  to  those  who  desire  Him  above  every- 
thing else.  Believe  me,  this  is  true.  I  ask  you  very 
earnestly  to  believe  me." 

She  despaired,  as  she  listened  to  him. 
It  was  hers  now  to  study  his  face,  and  to  listen  in 
place  of  speaking.  She  was  surprised  by  the  tone  of 
authority  in  his  voice,  and  by  some  expression  in  his 
face  which  seemed  new  to  her.  The  gravity  of  the 
boy  had  long  ago  deepened  into  a  man's  seriousness, 
but  in  this  seriousness  there  was  now  a  new  spirit,  a 
spirit  which  seemed  to  her  of  extraordinary  strength 
and  of  some  abiding  serenity.  She  said  to  herself, 
**He  is  inflexible" ;  and  then  she  added,  *'It  is  too  late." 
Christopher  told  her  that  as  for  looking  to  revolu- 
tionize the  world  he  had  no  such  thought;  and  that 
as  for  the  failure  of  St.  Francis,  that  wonderful  spirit 
was  at  this  present  day  supporting  thousands  of  men 
and  women  in  their  conflict  with  the  world,  the  flesh. 


io6  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

and  the  devil ;  and  that  as  for  thinking  Christ  to  be  a 
delusion,  he  knew  him  now  to  be  the  one  reality  of  a 
world  distracted  by  shadows. 

"I  would,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "that  I  might  be 
the  means  of  giving  to  you,  so  that  no  sorrow  could 
overwhelm  you,  the  peace  that  he  gives  to  all  those 
who  love  him." 

At  this  he  stopped  suddenly,  as  though  interrupted 
by  a  new  thought,  and  then,  with  something  that  was 
nearly  energy  and  almost  passion,  he  exclaimed  to  her, 
"Do  you  know  what  I  mean  when  I  speak  about  loving 
him  ?  I  mean  obedience.  It's  only  when  we  love  him 
to  the  point  of  obeying  him  that  our  love  can  be  called 
love;  and  when  that  full  love  comes,  wisdom  pours 
into  the  heart  which  we  have  emptied  of  our  distracted 
and  divided  self,  his  wisdom,  the  wisdom  of  God.  No 
one  can  pronounce  judgment  upon  Christ  who  has  not 
obeyed  him." 

"Each  one  thinks  that  only  he  truly  obeys  I" 

"Obedience  can  be  measured  by  action." 

"And  you  will  renounce  the  world  for  his  sake?" 

"But  gladly." 

"And  give  up  your  birthright?" 

"Yes." 

"And  leave  your  father  and  mother,  brothers  and 
sisters,  for  his  sake?" 

"Yes." 

"And  here  live  and  here  die  ?" 

"As  God  wills." 


THE  LAST  APPEAL  107 


^■•'Are  you  happy?" 

^■**More  happy  than  I  can  tell  you." 

^■**More  happy  than  I  can  understand?" 

^KHe  wavered. 

^V'How  far  am  I  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven?"  she 
asked  him. 

"Ah,  mother,"  he  replied,  "how  can  I  answer  that? 
I  think  all  are  far  who  do  not  love.  You  have  loved 
your  own  unselfishly :  great  has  been  your  love  for  us* 
But  to  understand  Christ  we  must  love  the  least  of 
God's  children  as  our  very  own,  and  Christ  himself 
to  the  utmost  reach  of  obedience.  Obedience  is  the 
only  faith.  Obedience  is  the  only  love.  We  must 
obey  before  we  can  understand." 
"Christopher,  this  is  our  farewell." 

I  "No ;  we  shall  meet  many  times." 
**But  you  will  not  come  to  us,  and  you  will  not  want 
t  to  come  to  you." 
**I  want  you  to  come  to  me,  but  not  for  a  little  time, 
jvant  you  to  come  when  I  have  convinced  you  that 
[lave  made  my  choice  and  that  there  is  no  shadow  of 
turning  in  my  mind." 

*Am  I  not  to  see  your  wife?" 
"Yes,  I  want  you  to  see  her." 
"When  may  I  do  that?" 
"We  will  go  now.    I  know  where  she  is." 
"You  are  sure,  Christopher,  that  she  will  take  care 
^you?" 

He  smiled.  "I  am  only  sure  that  we  love  each  other." 


io8  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

That  night  when  Mrs,  Sterling  returned  to  Portman 
Square,  she  announced  that  Christopher's  decision  was 
irrevocable,  and  that  his  future  wife  was  just  as  mad 
as  himself.  She  tried  to  laugh  as  she  gave  to  the  as- 
sembled family  the  narrative  of  her  visit,  making  it 
seem  that  her  inquiry  had  only  confirmed  a  former 
conviction  to  which  she  had  become  accustomed.  But 
in  her  own  room  she  told  herself  that  Christopher  was 
ruined,  that  their  lives  were  sundered  for  evermore, 
and  that  she  hated  religion  as  she  had  never  hitherto 
hated  anything. 


PART  II 
THAT  WHICH  CAME  AFTER 


CHAPTER  I 

MR.  sterling's  point  OF  VIEW 

CHRISTOPHER  and  his  wife  lived  on  the  top 
floor  of  a  tenement  house.  This  little  home  of 
theirs,  with  which  they  were  humorously  well  pleased, 
consisted  of  two  rooms  and  a  few  cupboards.  Each 
room  was  provided  with  a  single  window,  each  window 
presenting  a  very  conspicuously  similar  view  of  roofs, 
chimneys,  church  towers,  telegraph  wires,  and  smoke. 
One  room  was  a  kitchen-parlor,  and  the  other  room 
was  the  sleeping  apartment,  a  room  just  big  enough  to 
take  two  beds,  a  single  washstand,  and  a  very  small 
chest  of  drawers.  Fortunately  there  was  a  diminutive 
hall  to  this  dwelling  and  here  Christopher  hung  up  his 
clothes,  using  it  in  many  respects  as  a  dressing-room. 
IHtThe  kitchen-parlor  was  the  single  workshop  of  this 
■^mited  couple.  On  one  side  of  the  little  range  was  a 
cupboard  in  which  Jane  kept  her  pots  and  pans :  on  the 
other,  a  set  of  shelves  on  which  Christopher  kept  his 

109 


no  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

books.  The  window-sill  was  shared  between  them  as 
a  garden.  There  were  two  or  three  mezzotints  on  the 
walls.  A  little  table  stood  under  the  central  gas-bracket 
covered  with  a  green  cloth.  There  were  two  easy- 
chairs  near  the  hearth,  and  three  straight-backed  chairs 
against  the  wall.  The  window  curtains  were  of  green 
linen. 

When  they  first  set  up  housekeeping  in  this  little 
flat,  Jane  employed  a  woman  to  do  the  weekly  washing, 
not  because  she  could  not  do  this  work  herself,  but  be- 
cause she  found  it  a  great  fatigue  and  some  little  risk 
to  carry  the  basket  down  to  the  asphalt  yard,  where 
the  children  of  the  tenement  played  with  dust-bins, 
and  there  hang  up  and  leave  her  linen  to  dry.  But 
after  some  months  of  this  experience  with  a  char- 
woman, she  determined  to  do  what  the  rest  of  her 
neighbors  did,  namely,  to  tie  a  string  across  the 
kitchen-parlor,  and  on  this  string  to  hang  her  washing. 
It  was  a  great  sacrifice  of  the  amenities,  but  she  had 
her  reward.  On  the  day  when  she  first  made  this 
experiment  Christopher  was  out,  being  busy  that  morn- 
ing with  his  work  among  mentally-deficient  children, 
and  Jane  intended  to  take  the  washing  down,  wet  or 
dry,  before  he  returned.  But  Christopher  came  home 
unexpectedly  early,  and  entering  the  kitchen  and  seeing 
the  washing  strung  across  the  little  room,  uttered  a  cry 
of  pleasure,  going  eagerly  to  his  wife,  and  kissing  her. 
"You  could  have  done  nothing  to  please  me  better,"  he 
said,  with  warm  pleasure;  "now  we  shall  be  exactly 


I 


MR.  STERLING'S  POINT  OF  VIEW         in 


Kke  our  neighbors,  and  you  will  see  the  difference  this 
touch  of  the  commonplace  will  make  in  our  relations 
with  them." 

It  was  quite  true.  Christopher  knew  the  nature  of 
his  neighbors  with  a  wonderful  accuracy.  So  long  as 
Jane  employed  somebody  to  do  her  washing,  and  sent 
the  washing  down  to  the  yard,  the  neighbors  were  con- 
scious of  a  difference  in  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sterling;  but 
now  when  they  entered  for  a  chat,  and  found  washing 
hanging  familiarly  in  the  room,  they  behaved  with  a 
complete  naturalness  and  treated  both  Christopher  and 
his  wife  as  their  equals. 

Christopher  continued  his  tutoring,  and  very  often 
would  be  reading  Greek  or  Latin  authors  with  a  me- 
chanic, or  teaching  the  principles  of  political  economy 
to  an  ambitious  boy  just  leaving  school,  while  Jane  was 
either  cooking  at  the  fire  or  sitting  with  her  needlework 
at  the  open  window.  They  both  continued  their  at- 
tendance at  the  Friends*  Mission,  where  Christopher 
would  sometimes  preach,  but  they  no  longer  regarded 
it  as  the  main  concernment  of  their  lives.  They  felt 
that  they  could  best  express  their  devoted  obedience  to 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  by  living  simple  lives  among^ 
simple  people,  identifying  themselves  in  every  way  with 
the  lives  of  those  people,  sharing  their  troubles  and 
their  pleasures,  going  intimately  among  them  as  friends 
and  neighbors,  witnessing  always  by  the  spirit  which 
was  in  them  to  their  love  of  their  Master. 

It  was  never  contemplated  by  Christopher  that  his 


112  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

way  of  living  would  revolutionize  society.  He  neve? 
regarded  himself  in  the  Hght  of  a  reformer.  Indejd 
so  great  was  his  modesty  that  he  never  once  er  per- 
tained the  notion  that  he  should  write  articles,  much 
less  a  book,  either  on  social  problems  or  on  religion. 
He  seemed  to  understand  from  the  first  that  his  life 
was  meant  to  move  obscurely  among  the  shadows.  He 
was  happy  in  the  shadows.  He  shrank  with  real 
spiritual  repugnance  from  the  idea  of  publicity  in  any 
form.  He  believed  that  no  lasting  good  was  likely  to 
come  from  philanthropic  organizations,  and  he  held 
that  mechanism  was  most  dangerous  to  the  religious 
spirit.  If  he  cherished  one  minor  ambition  it  was  that 
perhaps  some  day  he  might  persuade  men  from  the 
universities  to  live  among  the  oppressed  as  he  was 
■doing,  living  intimately  with  them,  and  sharing  with 
them  the  culture  they  had  acquired  at  public  schools 
and  the  universities. 

But  his  major  ambition  was  the  hope  of  influencing 
all  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  with  the  social 
and  individual  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion.  He  was 
fond  of  quoting  passages  from  one  of  Edward  Caird's 
Balliol  addresses,  and  would  make  this  particular  ad- 
dress the  foundation  of  nearly  all  his  religious  discus- 
sions. He  held  that  profoundest  truth  lay  in  those 
words,  "For  it  is  not  by  special  acts  directed  to  the 
welfare  of  others  that  we  benefit  them  most,  but  by  the 
tone  and  direction  of  our  habitual  activities."  It  was 
the  tone  and  direction  of  his  habitual  activities  that 


I 


MR.  STERLING'S  POINT  OF  VIEW         lij 


he  consecrated  to  the  service  of  his  fellow  men.  He 
declared  to  all  those  who  spoke  to  him  intimately  that 
the  inwardness  of  a  man  is  his  only  means  of  touching 
.  the  soul  of  another,  and  that  in  Caird's  words,  "We 
l^binot  keep  the  secret  nobleness  or  meanness  of  our 
^fcarts  to  ourselves;  silently  and  without  our  being 
conscious  of  it,  the  virtue  or  the  vice  goes  out  of  us 
to  weaken  or  to  strengthen  our  neighbors,  and  the 
virtue  or  the  vice  comes  out  of  them  to  weaken  or  to 
strengthen  us."  He  would  often  say  when  somebody 
reported  to  him  a  dreadful  thing  which  had  happened 
or  told  him  of  some  noble  action  in  the  world,  "You 
remember  what  Caird  tells  us:  the  whole  weight  of 
the  evil  that  is  in  our  society  is  dragging  us  down,  and 
the  whole  force  of  the  good  that  is  in  it  is  helping 

m  up." 

^B  There  was  another  phrase  of  Caird's  often  on  his 

^Ls — "He  who  shuts  others  out,  shuts  himself  in" — 

^Kid  it  was  his  realization  of  the  deep  spiritual  truth  in 

these  words   which  made  him  urge  all   his  humble 

lends  to  live  frankly  and  freely  with  their  fellow 

n.     He  never  once  counseled  anyone  of  his  ac- 

intance  to  become  a  minister  of  religion,  but  no 

e  ever  talked  to  him  of  spiritual  matters  without 

ing  bidden  to  share  lavishly  with  the  rest  of  man- 

nd  whatever  gifts  he  had  received  from  the  common 

Father.    Sterling  himself  was  always  going  in  and  out 

of  homes,  not  to  preach  and  not  to  exhort,  but  to  give 

himself  to  them  in  ordinary  commerce  of  friendship. 


114  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

He  was  not  a  considerable  reader  of  newspapers, 
l)ut  he  followed  public  questions  with  great  interest, 
and  discussed  them  with  his  neighbors.  The  Irish 
Question  made  a  deep  impression  on  him  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1914,  and  he  was  filled  with  indignation  against 
Sir  Edward  Carson  for  calling  the  people  of  Ulster 
to  arms.  He  would  speak  about  this  matter  with  pro- 
found feeling,  never  allowing  his  indignation  to  become 
violent,  but  showing  with  a  decision  sometimes  want- 
ing from  his  rather  dispassionate  discussion  of  other 
public  questions,  that  here  was  a  thing  which  he 
deemed  of  enormous  importance. 

He  had  hated  with  a  righteous  hate  the  violence  of 
the  suffragette  women,  but  he  spoke  of  their  actions 
with  pain  rather  than  with  indignation,  horrified  that 
women  should  burn  down  churches  and  homes,  bewil- 
dered that  they  should  actually  glory  in  these  wicked 
crimes.    But  the  action  of  Sir  Edward  Carson  touched 
him  much  more  deeply.    His  indignation  at  that  arm- 
ing of  the  north  proceeded  from  a  sharp  recoil  of  his 
whole  nature  from  the  use  made  by  the  Ulster  men  of 
the  name  of  God.    He  denounced  such  blasphemy  with 
great  firmness.    He  went  so  far  on  one  occasion  as  to 
declare  that  Sir  Edward  Carson  had  opened  the  door 
to  anarchy,  and  that  henceforth  revolution  was  pro- 
vided with  an  excuse  for  taking  up  arms  to  gain  its 
ends. 

"All  violence,"  he  declared,  "is  of  Satan.    It  is  op- 
posed to  the  will  of  God.     Every  blow  struck  at  a 


I 

mil 


MR.  STERLING'S  POINT  OF  VIEW         115 


uman  creature  is  a  denial  of  Christ's  revelation." 

Among  his  friends  and  neighbors  were  men  of  all 

shades  of  political  thought,  but  because  Christopher 

l^bs  recognized  on  every  hand  as  a  good  man  and  a 

ancere  man  discussions  in  which  he  took  part  were 

«ver  of  a  bitter  or  quarrelsome  character. 
Throughout  the  neighborhood  in  which  he  lived  he 
was  always  spoken  of  as  "Mr.  Setrling."  It  is  curious 
that  one  who  so  completely  identified  himself  with 
these  people,  none  of  whom  knew  him  to  be  the  son 
of  a  rich  man,  should  never  have  been  treated  with 
anything  approaching  to  familiarity.'  In  his  presence 
men  were  respectful,  and  behind  his  back  were  enthu- 
siastic. They  loved  him  in  their  own  fashion,  a  deeper 
fashion  than  is  often  to  be  found  among  other  sets 
of  people;  they  would  have  done  anything  to  serve 
him,  made  any  sacrifice  to  please  him.  He  was  always 
receiving  little  presents  which  testified  to  their  regard. 
A  cobbler  who  kept  three  hens  in  a  back-yard  would 
bring  him  a  couple  of  new-laid  eggs;  a  charwoman 
whose  brother  lived  in  the  country  would  bring  him 
half  a  pound  of  fresh  butter ;  Tom  Hurrell,  the  com- 
positor, would  bring  him  valuable  books  picked  up  at 
second-hand  stalls;  and  a  widow,  who  supported  a 
large  family  by  selling  flowers  outside  Liverpool  Street 
station,  rising  at  dawn  to  go  to  Covent  Garden  market, 
would  very  often  climb  the  five  flights  of  stone  stairs 
to  leave  a  nosegay  at  his  door. 
It  is  important  to  understand  that  Mr.  Sterling's 


ii6  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

religion  was  of  a  rational  rather  than  of  an  emotional 
character.  He  never  at  any  time  gave  way  to  senti- 
ment. Everything  in  his  mental  life  was  thought  out, 
with  a  logical  severity.  It  was  his  quarrel  with 
churches  that  they  were  not  intellectually  thorough. 
He  attributed  the  ills  of  society  to  a  lack  of  logical 
honesty.  Never  was  a  man  so  ruled  by  reason  as  this 
humble  disciple  of  Christ  who  endeavored  to  do  ex- 
actly what  his  Master  had  commanded. 

He  said  to  Tom  Hurrell  on  one  occasion:  **By  far 
the  most  important  political  event  in  history  is  the  life 
of  Jesus.  It  has  been  obscured  by  two  forces,  Cath- 
olicism and  Protestantism.  The  first  stage  in  the  evolu- 
tion of  this  religion  was  Catholicism,  which  attempted 
to  attain  unity  at  the  cost  of  individualism.  The  sec- 
ond stage  was  Protestantism,  which  flung  unity  aside 
in  its  passion  for  individualism.  After  Armageddon, 
which  is  likely  to  come  in  our  own  lifetime,  the  third 
stage  will  be  begun,  and  the  historian  will  speak  of  it 
as  Socialism.  In  Socialism  men  will  perceive  at  last 
the  fulness  of  Christ's  teaching,  namely,  that  while  the 
individual  in  the  inwardness  of  his  self  must  hold 
separate  communion  with  God,  he  must  in  his  social 
life  be  entirely  and  lovingly  devoted  to  the  welfare  of 
his  fellow  men.  This  devotion  to  the  welfare  of  all 
will  be  the  great  unity  of  life  in  which  all  individuals 
will  find  their  completeness.  Then,  in  those  days,  men 
will  look  back  on  that  which  went  before  and  see  how 
blindly  their  fathers  followed  Christ,  and  how  vainly 


I 


MR.  STERLING'S  POINT  OF  VIEW         117 


the  Church  made  use  of  his  name.  It  will  seem  to 
them  like  a  nightmare  that  in  any  age  calling  itself 
Christian  nations  should  have  warred  against  nations, 
that  there  should  have  been  competition  and  strife,  the 
trampling  down  of  the  weak,  the  triumph  and  reward 
of  the  selfish,  bitterness  and  contention  between  classes 
and  parties,  immense  luxury  and  immense  misery.  For 
Christ  taught  us  to  seek  our  happiness  in  the  welfare 
of  others,  told  us  we  must  love  our  enemies,  bade  us 
put  all  pride  and  selfishness  out  of  our  hearts,  in- 
structed us  to  be  humble,  merciful,  and  loving.  Social- 
ism is  obedience  to  the  teaching  of  Christ.  Any  other 
form  of  government  is  (Jsobedience." 

It  was  because  he  believed  every  word  of  Christ  that 
he  cherished  with  an  earnestness  which  no  one  could 
question  the  faith  that  only  in  Christ  and  through 
Christ  could  the  world  escape  from  the  chaos  and 
_anarchy  of  individualism  into  the  highest  conception 
Socialism. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   TRUMPETS   OF    WAR 

WHEN  towards  the  end  of  Jtily  191 4  it  seemed 
almost  certain  that  war  would  break  out  in 
Europe,  Mr.  Sterling  was  so  deeply  distressed  that  he 
seemed  like  a  man  stricken  with  physical  pain.  No 
smiles  in  those  days  ever  came  to  his  lips.  He  would 
groan  as  he  read  the  newspapers,  and  in  his  sleep  he 
would  cry  out  in  a  loud  voice,  grinding  his  teeth  and 
muttering  the  name  of  Christ.  He  used  to  say  to  his 
wife,  "If  this  thing  comes  upon  us,  it  will  be  the 
world's  denial  of  God,  a  denial  sealed  with  the  blood 
of  the  world's  youth." 

He  returned  to  his  usual  serenity  and  also  to  his 
customary  logic  when  the  horror  became  inevitable. 
England's  declaration  of  war  did  not  so  greatly  distress 
him  as  Belgium's  determination  to  dispute  the  violence 
of  Germany.  It  was  the  decision  of  Belgium  which 
seemed  to  strike  wild  grief  out  of  his  soul  and  to  re- 
store his  reason  to  its  absolute  control  of  his  mind. 

"Now  we  shall  see  Armageddon,"  he  said  to  his 
wife.  "This  is  the  culmination  of  the  world's  dis- 
obedience.   It  is  inevitable.     The  nations  have  taken 

118 


i 


THE  TRUMPETS  OF  WAR 


119 


le  sword  and  with  the  sword  they  shall  perish.    One 

in  see  now  how  certain  was  this  calamity.     What 

Ise  has  been  the  policy  of  the  nations  of  the  world 

:cept  the  policy  of  self-interest?     Each  has  striven 

For  its  own  welfare,  each  has  struggled  for  dominion, 

Lch  has  armed  itself  to  fight  for  its  possessions.    You 

low  how  the  drunkard  says  to  himself,  *I  can  defy 

le  laws  of  nature';  you  see  him  hale  and  strong; 

Lughing  derisively  at  those  who  warn  him;  living 

>ravely  with  his  hearty  companions  who  fear  no  ill; 

id  then  one  day  disease  creeps  up  close  behind  him, 

lises  its  dagger,  and  strikes  him  down,  leaving  him 

ruin  and  in  pain.    So  it  is  with  nations.    They  say 

themselves,  'We  can  worship  Mammon,  we  can  seek 

)lunder,  we  can  boast  of  our  power,  we  can  lay  up 

reasure  for  ourselves  here  upon  earth,  we  can  hate 

ir  enemies,  we  can  oppress  the  weak,  we  can  deceive 

id  outwit  the  strong ;  all  these  things  we  can  do  and 

10  harm  will  befall  us.'    And  while  their  church  bells 

re  ringing,  and  while  their  fleets  and  armies  are 

ratching,  and  while  their  statesmen  are  lying  and 

luping,  suddenly  in  their  midst  appears  the  avenger  of 

rod  demanding  the  penalty  of  disobedience." 

She  spoke  of  Germany  as  the  sole  cause  of  this 

ilamity. 

"I  know  there  is  a  godless  Germany,"  he  replied, 

['and  on  the  head  of  that  godless  Germany  may  be  the 

)lood  of  this  war  which  will  certainly  overwhelm  the 

rorld;  but  there  is  another  Germany,  virtuous  and 


120  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

kindly,  peaceful  and  studious,  modest  and  tender.  Do 
you  not  see  that  if  the  other  nations  had  chosen  to 
obey  Christ  and  had  put  themselves  into  brotherly  sym- 
pathy with  this  good  Germany,  seeking  not  their  own 
individual  aggrandisement,  but  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  all  peoples,  do  you  not  see  that  then  the  bad  Ger- 
many could  not  have  been  master  in  that  house  ?  Our 
disobedience  to  Christ  has  been  the  opportunity  of  that 
bad  Germany.  It  has  said,  'Those  who  speak  of 
religion  are  hypocrites:  they  do  not  mean  what  they 
say,  they  do  not  practice  what  they  preach,  they  are 
contemptible  in  their  falsity.'  It  has  preached  its  own 
gospel  of  Power,  and  no  one  has  been  able  to  contra- 
dict it,  for  it  is  the  gospel  of  all  the  other  nations 
though  they  pretend  to  another.  I  know  that  the  bad 
Germany  is  the  enemy  of  God;  but  I  know  also  that 
among  the  other  nations  there  is  none  which  can  truly 
call  itself  the  friend  of  God.  All  history  has  recorded 
man's  disobedience  to  Christ;  his  disloyalty  to  the 
divinity  within  his  own  breast.  Germany  may  be  more 
guilty  than  the  others,  that  is  for  God  to  judge,  but 
none  is  innocent." 

These  views  of  Mr.  Sterling  gave  no  particular 
offense  to  those  who  heard  them  expressed  at  the 
beginning  of  hostilities.  The  first  opposition  they  en- 
countered was  from  Tom  Hurrell,  a  fellow  Quaker, 
who  was  immensely  excited  by  Belgium's  heroic  action 
in  standing  up  to  Germany.  Not  all  his  instinctive 
hatred  of  war,  not  all  his  long-inherited  Quakerism, 


THE  TRUMPETS  OF  WAR 


121 


)uld  prevent  this  compositor  from  uttering  the  most 
ithusiastic  praise  of  Belgium  and  her  hero-king. 

It's  like  David  and  GoHath,"  he  exclaimed.  "It's 
)ic.    It's  Homeric.    It's  sublime.     I'd  give  anything 

be  a  Belgian.    Think  what  it  means.    Belgium  might 
ive  gone  scot  free  if  she  had  stood  aside.     Instead 
|f  that  she's  standing  up — standing  up  to  the  greatest 
lilitary  machine  in  the  world." 

"Consider  the  result,"  said  Mr.  Sterling. 

"Oh,  she'll  be  knocked  down  and  trampled  on  and 
icked  out  of  shape :  that's  a  certainty.  But  you  don't 
lean  to  say,  Mr.  Sterling,  that  you  don't  admire  her 
)r  standing  up  to  the  invader?" 

'Consider  the  result  if  she  went  to  her  frontiers, 
len  and  women  and  children,  the  whole  nation,  with- 
it  arms  of  any  kind." 

'I  see  what  you  mean." 

'Consider  the  result  if  she  confronted  the  armed 

ions  of  Germany  with  her  domestic  life  and  her 

lith  in  God.     Do  you  think  German  soldiers  would 

re  on  her?    Do  you  think  the  German  legions  would 

lock  her  down,  trample  on  her,  and  seize  her  ter- 

itory?" 

*Ah,  but  you're  speaking  of  the  ideal!" 

*No,  of  obedience  to  Christ.  They  who  take  the 
rord  shall  perish  with  the  sword.  We  are  to  love 
ir  enemies,  not  to  hate  them." 

'But,  Mr.  Sterling,  Belgium  has  g^ven  her  word  to 
lefend  her  territory  from  invasion." 


122  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"And  we  have  given  our  word  to  defend  it  if  it  is 
violated." 

"Well?" 

"Do  you  suppose  we  shall  do  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps  we  shan't.  I  heard  today 
that  John  Morley,  and  Bums,  and  Simon,  and  two  or 
three  more  are  against  it." 

"Do  you  want  England  to  fight?" 

"If  war  has  got  to  come,  I  think  she  ought  to  keep 
her  word." 

"But  when  did  the  people  of  England,  when  did  the 
people  of  Belgium,  agree  that  they  would  give  their 
sons  to  the  slaughter?  That  agreement  belongs  to 
diplomacy.  It  belongs  to  secret  and  wicked  statesman- 
ship, a  statesmanship  which  is  inspired  by  hatred  and 
jealousy,  which  denies  the  revelation  of  Christ,  which 
is  founded  on  deceit,  and  which  aims  at  Power." 

Tom  Hurrell  was  not  convinced. 

"I  have  been  reading  the  newspapers  a  good  deal 
during  the  last  day  or  two,"  said  Mr.  Sterling.  "In 
none  of  them  have  I  discovered  the  smallest  recogni- 
tion of  Christ  as  an  authoritative  guide.  Instead  I 
find  angry  words,  words  full  of  bitterness  and  denun- 
ciation, words  calculated  to  intensify  the  passion  of 
Germany.  No  one  thinks  of  appealing  to  the  good 
people  in  Germany.  No  one  strives  to  be  a  peace- 
maker. The  whole  spirit  of  the  nation  is  expressed  in 
a  wild  fury  of  hatred  which  vainly  endeavors  to  appear 
as  the  language  of  moral  indignation.     What  is  the 


THE  TRUMPETS  OF  WAR 


123 


purpose  of  all  this  violent  language?  ^  It  is  to  whip  up 
the  baser  passions  of  the  people.  It  is  to  rush  our 
.statesmen  into  war.    It  is  to  secure  the  destruction  of 

jrmany.    Is  this  how  Christ  would  have  acted  ?" 

Two  days  later  came  the  news  that  Britain  had 
lecided  to  fight  at  the  side  of  France,  Russia,  and 
kigium. 

Mr.  Sterling  bowed  his  head.  "It  is  Armageddon," 
le  told  his  wife,  "and  we  who  love  our  Master  can 
mly  pray  that  the  end  may  come  soon." 

Late  on  the  following  day  he  was  approaching  his 
lome  when  a  taxi-cab  drew  up  at  the  door,  and  Lang- 
)n  in  khaki  got  out,  and  hurried  into  the  building, 
'he  cab  waited  at  the  door. 

Mr.  Sterling  walked  more  slowly,  dreading  to  see 
is  soldier  brother,  not  that  he  had  ceased  to  care  for 
im,  but  that  he  could  not  think  what  he  should  say 

him. 

As  he  climbed  the  stairs  he  comforted  himself  with 
le  reflection  that  as  the  cab  was  waiting  the  visit  was 
)t  likely  to  be  long. 

He  found  Langton  standing  by  the  open  window  in 
It  kitchen,  with  Jane  at  his  side.  The  sun  was  shin- 
ig  into  the  window,  and  a  slight  breeze  was  stirring 
le  curtains.  At  his  entrance  Langton  swung  quickly 
)und  and  came  to  him  half-way  across  the  room.    He 

)ked  extraordinarily  fit,  giving  out  a  sense  of  quick 
trength  and  great  mental  alertness. 

*IVe  come  to  say  good-bye,  Christopher;  just  a 


124  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

word,  for  IVe  no  end  of  visits  to  pay."  His  voice  was 
full  of  energy  and  suppressed  eagerness,  but  there  was 
a  tone  of  kindness  and  affection  in  it  which  moved 
Christopher  a  good  deal. 

Christopher  held  out  his  hand,  looking  at  him  affec- 
tionately, his  mind  strangely  crowded  with  memories 
of  his  boyhood. 

"I  am  more  sorry  than  I  can  tell  you,"  he  said  slowly, 
"that  you  are  going." 

*'Don't  be  sorry,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  Langton ; 
"it's  going  to  be  a  big  business,  a  matter  of  life  and 
death,  but  I  wouldn't  be  out  of  it  for  the  world." 

Christopher  saw  in  him  an  incarnation  of  the  war- 
rior spirit,  and  could  not  restrain  a  feeling  of  admira- 
tion for  all  that  is  great  in  that  spirit.  Langton  was 
the  very  perfect  British  officer — tall,  slim,  vigorously 
knit,  keen  featured,  and  almost  electrically  alert.  There 
v/as  no  Prussian  rigidity  about  him,  and  no  swaggering 
elegancies.  He  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  the 
clean-living,  sport-loving,  and  modest-minded  gentle- 
man, a  man  made  for  honor  and  duty,  who  would 
never  descend  to  baseness,  never  hold  truck  with  vile- 
ness,  whose  word  would  be  kept  to  the  letter,  whose 
friendship  would  be  faithful  to  death.  One  always 
felt  in  contact  with  this  upright,  honorable,  and  quite 
fearless  man  that  his  soul  had  the  quality  of  ath- 
leticism. 

Christopher  thought  to  himself,  "He  is  very  good  to 
look  upon,  this  brother  of  mine,  who  wears  those  South 


I 


THE  TRUMPETS  OF  WAR  125 


jAfrican  ribbons  on  his  tunic  as  though  they  stood  for 
love  and  beauty,  instead  of  murder  and  mutilation. 
There  is  something  quite  splendid  in  the  clean  spare- 
ness  of  his  body,  in  the  severity  of  his  expression,  in 
the  strong  carriage  of  his  head,  in  the  feeling  of  re- 
joicingness  which  comes  from  him." 

He  said  to  Langton,  "You  are  quite  glad,  then,  that 
you  are  going?" 

"Rather;  I  should  think  so.  We're  all  keyed  up  to 
concert  pitch.  If  the  French  do  their  part,  and  the 
Russians  don't  come  a  cropper,  our  lot  will  give  a  good 
account  of  themselves.  You  never  saw  such  an  army. 
There  never  has  been  a  finer." 

"Will  it  be  a  long  war,  do  you  think?" 

"I  hope  not.  It's  impossible  to  say.  According  to 
some  people  if  the  Germans  don't  get  what  they  want 
in  three  months  they'll  be  counted  out.  Finance  comes 
in.  But  I  shouldn't  care  to  prophesy.  All  I'm  ready 
to  swear  is  that  the  British  Army  will  give  a  good 
account  of  itself." 

t"Well,  I  pray  it  may  be  soon  over." 
Ah,  you  disapprove  of  war." 
Don't  you?" 
I  believe  that  thtr  contingency  of  war  is  essential  to 
healthy  manhood  of  a  state." 
You  were  always  a  keen  soldier." 
"Physical  morality  appealed  to  me  from  boyhood. 
I  love  feeling  myself  to  be  fit.    I  regard  physical  slack- 
ness as  a  great  danger.    I've  just  looked  in  on  Arthur. 


126  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

I  wish  you'd  see  him.  He  wants  pulling  out  of  a  hole. 
He's  getting  fat,  and  he's  looking  morally  flabby.  Lon- 
don is  doing  him  no  good.  Get  him  here  and  talk  to 
him." 

He  turned  to  Jane.  "How  nice  youVe  got  this  little 
place.  The  flowers  in  the  window  are  quite  jolly.  I 
can  fancy  Christopher  sitting  up  at  night  with  a  great 
book  on  the  table." 

Jane  said  to  him,  "We  shall  both  pray  for  you." 

"Ah,  I  knew  I  need  not  ask  you  to  do  that.  Pray 
for  me  every  day.  And  pray  for  the  Allied  Armies. 
We're  going  to  fight  the  legions  of  Satan:  it's  a  life 
and  death  struggle  between  the  forces  of  Light  and 
Darkness:  I'm  sure  we  shall  win  in  the  end,  because 
our  victory  will  be  the  victory  of  God;  but  it's  going 
to  be  a  most  bloody  business." 

When  he  was  shaking  hands  with  Christopher  at  the 
door  of  his  cab,  he  said  in  an  undertone,  "I  got  a  won- 
derful feehng  from  your  little  wife:  she  is  very  near 
to  the  kingdom  of  heaven :  tell  her  I  shall  feel  happier 
in  my  mind  for  the  knowledge  that  she  will  remember 
me  in  her  prayers." 

Christopher  said  to  him,  "I  know  one  petition  she 
will  make  in  praying  for  your  safety:  she  will  pray 
that  you  may  fight  with  as  little  hate  in  your  heart 
as  is  possible." 

For  a  moment  Langton  was  perplexed.  Then  his 
face  cleared.  "Ah,  yes,"  he  replied,  "one  must  hate 
the   enemy's   cause,   but   not   the   individual   enemy. 


THE  TRUMPETS  OF  WAR  127 

British  troops  have  always  been  famous  for  their 
mercy  to  a  beaten  foe.  They  fight  like  gentlemen. 
Good-bye,  Christopher;  great  things  will  have  hap- 
pened when  we  meet  again :  good-luck  to  you,  old  man. 
And  don't  forget  to  try  to  see  Arthur.  Charity  begins 
at  home." 

When  he  had  gone  Christopher  did  not  return  to  his 
flat,  but  walked  slowly  forward,  his  hands  in  the  pock- 
ets of  his  jacket,  his  eyes  on  the  ground.  He  was 
strangely  affected  by  this  meeting,  profoundly  moved 
by  this  farewell.  If  he  no  longer  groaned  in  anguish 
over  the  thought  of  war's  brutal  destructiveness,  more 
than  ever  before  did  he  apprehend  with  a  peculiar 
sharpness  of  reality  the  personal  suffering  of  war. 
Here  was  his  brother,  hale  and  well,  going  to  the 
slaughter-house  of  Europe.  Would  he  ever  see  that 
brother  again?  And  if  he  ever  did  see  him  again, 
would  he  be  just  the  same?  He  mig^ht  be  without  an 
arm,  without  a  leg,  without  eyes,  without  a  face.  All 
over  Europe  mothers  were  saying  farewell  to  their 
sons  with  the  same  thought  in  their  hearts.  At  Chris- 
tian altars  throughout  the  world  mothers  and  wives 
were  imploring  God  to  protect  their  sons  from  murder 
and  from  mutilation.  The  youth  of  the  nations,  fair 
and  fresh,  with  the  dew  of  morning  on  their  lips,  the 
light  of  dawn  in  their  eyes,  the  song  of  hope  in  their 
hearts,  were  going  up  in  their  myriads  to  this  slaughter- 
house, the  sacrifice  of  godlessness,  the  sacrifice  of  in- 
ternational covetousness,  the  sacrifice  of  anti-Christ, 


128  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

They  in  their  innocence  and  purity  were  to  pay  the 
price  of  the  world's  sin :  their  blood  was  to  be  spilled, 
their  bodies  to  be  maimed,  their  souls  to  be  tortured 
to  the  very  edge  of  madness,  their  lives  to  be  dashed 
upon  the  stones  of  death,  because  their  fathers  had 
sinned.  He  cried  out  in  his  soul  against  the  madness 
of  the  world.  These  young  men  were  the  world's 
promise :  they  were  carrying  the  torch  of  man's  prog- 
ress :  their  feet  were  set  upon  the  threshold  of  human- 
ity's advancement;  and  now,  in  place  of  a  torch,  they 
carried  a  sword,  instead  of  going  towards  the  light 
they  were  herded  in  dense  masses  towards  the  darkness 
— these  young  who  might  have  solved  the  riddles  of 
pain,  disease,  inequality,  and  unrest. 

He  found  himself  walking  in  the  direction  of  Pom- 
mer's  shop,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  should  go 
and  see  how  this  naturalized  Briton  of  German  origin 
comported  himself  under  the  scourge  of  war. 

Pommer  was  in  fury,  and  Mrs.  Pommer  was  in 
tears.  It  was  from  Pommer's  lips  that  Christopher 
learned  the  reason  for  this  state  of  affairs.  The  baker 
had  never  been  so  eloquent.  His  eloquence  was  accom- 
panied, too,  by  such  tremendous  energy  of  feeling  as 
drove  him  to  walk  up  and  down  behind  the  counter, 
waving  his  arms,  and  snorting  like  a  war-horse. 

"People  speak  of  the  Kaiser!"  he  exclaimed,  with 
immense  contempt.  **Here  they  call  him  the  Kayser — 
ach,  they  are  very  ignorant.  They  say  it  is  the  Kaiser 
who  has  willed  this  war.    The  Kaiser,  always  it  is  the 


THE  TRUMPETS  OF  WAR  129 

Kaiser.  I  will  tell  you  what  the  Kaiser  is.  He  is — 
thatr  Here  Mr.  Pommer  snapped  his  fingers,  and 
made  a  rude  noise  with  his  lips.  "Nothing  more,  I  tell 
you.  He  is  a  fellow  with  a  screw  loose  somewhere. 
He  has  no  control.  He  gets  excited.  His  blood  boilfe 
up.  One  mom.ent  he  is  white,  then  he  is  scarlet.  Come 
in  at  one  door  you  find  him  cold  as  ice,  come  in  at 
another  and  he  is  blazing.  Such  a  man  is  nothing. 
Poof — we  dismiss  him.  He  could  not  do  this  thing. 
He  is  just  flapdoodle.  Ach,  nothing  at  all.  I  will  tell 
you  who  has  done  it.  Yes,  I,  Pommer,  will  tell  you. 
It  is  the  Prussian  landowner  and  the  Prussian  mer- 
chant. These  men  are  like  tigers.  They  have  no  blood 
in  their  bodies.  They  are  all  claws  and  teeth.  They 
are  the  enemies  of  the  human  race.  They  are  Ger- 
many's enemies.  I  hate  those  men.  I  saw  what  they 
were  about.  I  knew  this  thing  would  come.  I  left 
Germany  because  of  those  men.  And  now  see  what 
they  have  done.  Look  at  my  wife !  She  weeps.  Why 
does  she  weep?  Because  my  two  boys  have  gone  off 
to  be  soldiers.  That  is  what  those  men  have  done, 
damn  their  eyes!  My  sons,  educated,  strong,  clever,. 
Btdy  to  take  their  place  in  the  world,  must  take  a  rifle 
and  go  and  shoot  Germans  because  these  Prussians 
have  said,  'We  will  have  War!'  My  wife  weeps;  I 
do  not  weep.  It  is  the  woman's  part  to  weep.  I  do 
not  weep.  What  do  I  do  ?  I  denounce  these  Prussians. 
I  say  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  world.  I  do  not  want 
my  sons  to  kill  Germans,  but  I  want  them  to  kill 


I30  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

Prussians.  I  will  give  all  my  sons  to  kill  Prussians, 
yes,  and  I  myself  will  go  too.  I  say  to  my  wife,  *It 
is  not  for  you  to  weep :  you  should  be  proud :  you  have 
strong  sons,  born  of  you,  who  will  kill  Prussians, 
therefore  you  should  be  proud.'  Ach,  but  it  will  be 
a  long  time.  God  knows  when  it  will  end.  All  this 
about  the  Belgians — bah,  I  do  not  believe  it.  Belgium 
will  go  down  like  that  when  the  Prussians  mean  it. 
Millions  of  men  will  be  poured  through  Belgium. 
France  will  be  black  with  Prussians.  Ach,  it  will  be 
terrible." 

Christopher  inquired  about  the  sons,  and  learned 
that  the  two  older  boys  had  gone  off  that  very  morning 
to  enlist.  They  were  his  pupils,  and  he  felt  pained 
that  they  had  not  come  to  consult  him  before  taking 
this  step. 

Mrs.  Pommer  kept  muttering  between  her  tears, 
"To  think  of  my  having  reared  them  for  this!  The 
trouble  I  took  with  them.  They've  always  had  the 
best  of  everything.  And  now  they  must  go  and  fight. 
I  can't  believe  there's  a  God  to  allow  such  things  1" 

Nothing  that  Christopher  had  to  say  succeeded  in 
softening  the  anger  of  Mr.  Pommer  against  the  Prus- 
sians or  of  comforting  the  considerable  distress  of  poor 
Mrs.  Pommer.  He  took  his  leave  of  them  in  a  de- 
spondent frame  of  mind,  and  walked  home  as  wret- 
ched as  he  had  come. 


CHAPTER   III 


HELPING  THE  ENEMY 


14  Y  SHOULD  like  to  know,"  said  old  Anthony 
&  Sterling,  examining  the  end  of  a  cigar  before 
he  cut  it,  "what  Christopher  feels  about  this  war." 
He  looked  over  his  glasses  in  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Sterling  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  who  was  knitting 
with  an  energy  which  seemed  vindictive. 

"He  probably  thinks,"  replied  Arthur,  who  had  hon- 
ored his  family  on  this  occasion  by  dining  with  them, 
'that  we  ought  to  fall  upon  the  Kaiser's  neck  and  kiss 
Im  w^th  an  effusion  of  righteousness."    He  lifted  his 

>ffee-cup,  and  finished  the  contents. 

Old  Mr.  Sterling,  accepting  a  light  from  James  with 

little  bow  of  thanks  and  a  little  quick  smile  of  aifec- 
ion,  playfully  winked  the  eye  which  Arthur  could  not 

je,  as  if  to  say  to  James  confidentially  that  of  course 

le  future  Lord  Chancellor  would  tell  them  all  there 

ras  to  know  on  this  subject. 

Arthur  continued:  "It  would  be  rather  fun  to  get 
M  Christopher  here  and  roast  his  fanaticism  over  this 

)nflagration.     I  should  like  to  examine  him  on  the 

le  Christian's  attitude  towards  war."    He  turned  to 

131 


132  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

his  mother.     "Why  not  ask  him  to  come  to  dinner?" 

"Then  when  you  have  got  through  Christopher,"  said 
Mr.  Sterling,  the  cigar  beginning  to  glow;  "it  would 
he  rather  fun  for  us  if  old  Christopher  had  a  go  at 
you;  wouldn't  it?" 

"I  should  be  delighted,"  said  Arthur,  laughing  good- 
humoredly. 

At  this  moment,  as  if  Providence  had  arranged  the 
matter,  who  should  walk  into  the  room  but  Christopher 
himself. 

He  looked  as  gray  as  his  own  clothes,  and  his  face 
was  so  marked  by  exhaustion  that  Arthur  thought  of 
him  as  unwashed.  He  was  lined  and  haggard,  with 
his  hair  untidy,  his  eyes  heavy,  the  gray  flannel  collar 
round  his  neck  crumpled,  the  black  tie  disarranged,  his 
clothes  old  and  dusty. 

Everybody  except  Arthur  expressed  pleasure  at 
seeing  him,  rising  to  their  feet,  uttering  words  of  glad 
welcome,  and  hastening  to  meet  him.  Arthur  rose, 
napkin  in  hand,  and  approached  his  brother  slowly, 
critically,  smoking  a  cigarette. 

"You  look  worn  out,"  said  his  mother;  "I  will  ring 
and  order  you  some  dinner." 

Christopher  stopped  her,  saying  that  he  could  very 
easily  satisfy  his  wants  from  the  dessert  on  the  table ; 
and,  then,  turning  to  his  father,  explained  with  a  smile, 
as  if  to  warn  him  not  to  be  too  warm  in  his  welcome, 
that  he  had  come  to  beg.  His  greeting  of  James  was 
full  of  the  frankest  affection,  his  eyes  lighting  up  as 


ne  s 


HELPING  THE  ENEMY  133 


e  shook  hands  and  studied  the  handsome  face  of  this 
favorite  brother. 
When  they  were  seated  at  the  table,  his  father  said, 

(^e  were  speaking  of  you  only  a  moment  ago ;  weren't 
J,  Arthur?" 
Christopher,  who  was  peeling  an  apple,  glanced  up 
at  Arthur  with  a  smile,  and  said  in  his  quiet  voice, 
"You  look  more  like  a  Roman  emperor  than  ever." 

^That's  the  law,"  said  Arthur,  disposed  to  be 
pleasant. 

"Assisted,"  said  his  father,  "by  French  sauces  and 
old  port:  don't  you  think  so?" 

"We  were  saying,"  laughed  Arthur,  who  was  always 
ready  to  welcome  any  joke  against  himself  which 
tended  to  confirm  his  reputation  as  a  gourmet,  "that 
it  would  be  interesting  to  hear  your  views  on  the  moral 
question  of  this  war." 

"Ah,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  Christopher,  "I'm  far 
too  busy  to  occupy  my  brain  with  abstract  questions 
of  that  nature."    He  turned  to  his  father.    "I'm  work- 
ing like  a  galley-slave,  and  I've  come  to  ask  you  to 
help  us.    It's  work  that  will  appeal  to  you,  I'm  sure. 
Jane  and  I  are  the  sleuth  hounds  of  Stephen  Hobhouse. 
Lgfou  remember  him,  don't  you?     He  has  started  an 
l^taergency  Committee  for  looking  after  the  families 
of  Germans,  Austrians,  and  Hungarians  whose  bread- 
j     winners  have  either  gone  back  to  their  countries  or 
I     are  locked  up  here  in  our  internment  camps.     The 
I     amount  of  misery  is  already  prodigious.    It's  enough 


134  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

to  break  one's  heart.  If  a  man  never  hated  war  before 
this  would  make  him  hate  it  for  the  rest  of  his  days." 

Mr.  Sterling  said,  "I  have  always  hated  war." 

"It's  the  true  Quaker  blood  in  you,"  said  Christo- 
pher, smiling  his  approval. 

"I  was  quite  certain,"  Arthur  remarked,  "that  the 
work  you  spoke  of  when  you  first  came  in  would  be 
work  on  the  enemy's  side." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

Arthur  smiled  indulgently.  "My  dear  Christopher," 
he  replied,  "most  men  in  England  are  now  considering 
what  they  can  do  for  their  country;  therefore,  I 
argued,  you  would  be  working  hard  for  the  other  side. 
I'm  not  criticizing  you.  I'm  sure  that  this  work  is 
admirable.  And  God  forbid  that  any  words  of  mine 
should  diminish  by  a  single  guinea  the  amount  of  loot 
you  hope  to  bear  away  from  the  family  coffer " 

"That  is  his  name  for  me,"  interpolated  Mr.  Sterling. 

"But  you  will  agree,"  continued  Arthur,  "that  it  is 
unusual  work,  work  different  from  any  other  form  of 
national  enterprise,  and  not  exactly  the  work  which  is 
likely  to  give  us  the  victory." 

"Ah !"  cried  Christopher,  smiling  so  happily  that  he 
looked  five  years  younger,  "you  are  still  the  unblushing 
critic  of  mankind,  still  the  talker  of  enormous  non- 
sense." With  a  sidelong  glance  at  James,  he  asked, 
"How  on  earth  do  you  manage  to  put  up  with  him  ?" 

"I  don't,"  said  James;  "if  he  lived  here,  I  should 
emigrate." 


I 


HELPING  THE  ENEMY  135 


Oh,  in  occasional  small  doses  he  must  be  quite 
stimulating,"  Christopher  admitted.  Then  to  Arthur 
he  said,  "I  won't  be  drawn  by  you  into  a  controversy. 
I've  only  got  a  few  minutes,  which  must  be  devoted 
exclusively  to  what  you  describe  as  the  extraction  of 
loot.  But  try  to  get  this  into  your  dear  old  head :  a  man 
is  not  helping  the  enemy  who  endeavors  to  preserve 
his  country's  good  name  for  justice  and  liberalism. 
My  voice  will  not  be  missed  from  the  chorus  of  those 
who  cry  'Hun !'  My  hand,  however,  would  be  missed 
by  the  little  company  of  those  who  are  helping  to  miti- 
gate the  distresses  of  war." 

"One  moment,"  said  Arthur.    "My  point  was " 

His  father  cut  him  short.  "Let  Christopher  first 
tell  us  something  about  this  work  and  its  needs.  I 
have  a  very  great  regard  for  Stephen  Hobhouse.  He's 
a  noble  fellow.  Christopher,  you  have  caught  the 
Speaker's  eye." 
Mrs.  Sterling  sat  at  the  end  of  the  table  industri- 
ly  knitting,  her  head  bent,  her  eyes  on  her  work. 
Ever  since  that  unusual  outburst  of  feeling,  when  she 
made  her  final  appeal  to  Christopher  she  had  experi- 
enced a  strange  sense  of  awkwardness  in  meeting  him. 
Her  visits  to  the  tenement  had  been  few.  His  occa- 
sional visits  to  Portman  Square,  if  she  was  alone  when 
he  came,  always  distressed  her.  She  had  accepted  the 
inevitable,  and  to  a  degree  which  surprised  herself 
had  outgrown  the  passionate  love  which  for  a  quarter 
pf  a  century  she  had  cherished  in  her  heart  above  all 


m 


136  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

other  affections  or  ambitions.  That  love  had  been 
deflected  by  Christopher's  choice  of  Ufe,  perhaps  too 
by  his  choice  of  wife,  towards  the  youngest  of  her 
sons,  and  it  is  certain  that  at  this  period  of  her  Hfe 
the  love  which  she  felt  for  James,  if  not  so  great  as 
the  earlier  love  for  his  brilliant  brother,  was  the  great- 
est affection  of  her  maternity. 

She  felt  on  the  present  occasion  as  a  girl  happily 
and  proudly  engaged  to  be  married  might  feel  on  en- 
countering the  man  whom  she  first  loved.  She  was  at 
one  and  the  same  time  a  little  ashamed  of  this  first 
affection  and  yet  nervously  anxious  that  her  former . 
lover  should  not  cut  a  sorry  figure  in  the  eyes  of  other 
people.  She  no  longer  felt  that  Christopher  belonged 
to  her,  and  yet  she  could  not  dispossess  herself  of  the 
pride  which  he  had  once  created  in  her  heart  and  mind 
— the  pride  that  she  was  the  mother  of  such  a  son. 

Christopher  told  his  story  very  well  and  Mrs.  Ster- 
ling very  soon  found  herself  so  interested  in  his  nar- 
rative that  every  other  feeling  slipped  into  the  region 
of  the  unconscious.  It  was  a  tale  to  touch  the  heart 
of  all  people  in  whom  pity  still  exists — a  tale  of  little 
families,  once  very  happy  and  united,  suddenly  con- 
fronted by  starvation,  ruin,  and  the  bitterest  hostility 
of  former  neighbors.  What  made  this  tale  so  powerful 
in  its  appeal  was  the  tragic  fact  that  many  of  the 
women  thus  reduced  at  a  stroke  from  joy  and  hap- 
piness to  ruin  and  a  state  of  terror  were  women  of 
English  birth,  the  children  clutching  at  their  skirts  for 


HELPING  THE  ENEMY  137 


I 

l^totection  having  no  other  language  than  English. 
IH  Mrs.  Sterling  stopped  knitting,  and  let  her  hands  lie 
Hhe  in  her  lap.  She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at 
Christopher,  whose  face  was  turned  away  from  her, 
for  he  was  speaking  to  his  father  at  the  other  end 
of  the  table.  James  sat  beside  him,  watching  his  face, 
listening  sympathetically  to  his  words.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  table,  Arthur  also  watched  Christopher's 

Ice,  but  with  an  air  of  detachment,  studying  him  as 
problem  in  psychology,  his  own  face  the  express 
lage  of  self-esteem. 
The  room  was  full  of  shadows,  for  it  was  dimly 
;hted  by  shaded  candles,  and  in  these  shadows  the 
ce  of  Christopher,  though  it  had  none  of  the  youthful 
freshness  and  grace  of  James,  seemed  to  Mrs.  Sterling 
as  she  listened  to  his  words  full  of  a  great  strength  and 
a  very  wonderful  beauty. 

She  thought  to  herself,  "What  a  tragedy  it  is  that 
ch  a  mind  should  be  lost  to  his  country  at  a  time 
e  this." 

Mr.  Sterling  was  affected  by  Christopher's  story. 

is  gentle  face  became  visibly  soft  with  the  excess  of 

is  feelings,  the  mobile  lips  twitching  once  or  twice 

though  he  suffered  physical  pain,  while  there  were 

casions  when  his  eyes  moistened  in  sharp  sympathy. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  doing  this  work,"  he  said, 

,t  the  end  of  Christopher's  narrative.     "I  agree  with 

u  that  it  is  work  of  a  patriotic  nature.    Tell  me  what 

u  would  like  me  to  subscribe." 


138  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

Christopher  said  that  in  truth  he  knew  very  little 
of  the  financial  side  of  the  Committee's  work ;  it  was 
only  on  calling  at  headquarters  that  evening  after  a 
long  day's  hunt  for  these  stranded  families  in  the 
North  of  London  that  he  had  heard  a  depressing  ac- 
count of  the  finances,  and  so  had  volunteered  to  come 
off  to  his  father.  All  he  knew  was  that  the  demands 
of  this  work  far  and  away  exceeded  the  subscribed 
supplies. 

*'Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Sterling,  "your  labor  shall  be 
rewarded.    I'll  give  you  a  hundred  guineas." 

"And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling  "will  give  you "  she 

was  going  to  say  fifty  guineas,  but  when  Christopher 
turned  quickly  and  looked  at  her,  she  said,  "another 
hundred  guineas." 

"How  splendid  of  you !"  exclaimed  Christopher.  He 
got  up,  went  to  his  mother,  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,' 
fondling  her  shoulder  with  the  other  hand.  It  was  a 
caress  which  had  been  common  between  them  in  years 
gone  by.    She  looked  up  at  him,  smiling. 

"I  agree  with  your  father,"  she  said;  "it  is  a  most 
useful  and  patriotic  work." 

Still  standing  by  her  chair  he  challenged  Arthur  to 
say  what  he  would  subscribe. 

"Not  a  shilling,"  replied  the  future  Lord  Chancellor. 

"Well,  sixpence,  then,"  said  Christopher,  much 
amused  by  the  decisiveness  with  which  his  brother 
sought  to  dignify  his  parsimony. 

"Not  even  sixpence,"  said  Arthur;  "for  I  consider 


I 


HELPING  THE  ENEMY  139 


that  there  are  other  funds  of  a  less  equivocal  patriotic 
nature  which  have  the  prior  claim.  As  to  these  friends 
of  yours,  while  I  am  sorry  for  them,  I  can't  help  seeing 
^  that  their  inconveniences  are  the  result  of  their  own 
l^ptiduct.  Any  English  woman  who  could  bring  herself 
to  marry  such  a  loathsome  beast  as  a  German  must 

(;pect  the  hostility  of  decent  people." 
i"What  a  sentiment!"  exclaimed  Christopher. 
I^hy,  my  dear  Arthur,"  here,  after  patting  his 
other's  arm  very  affectionately,  he  withdrew  his 
other  hand  from  hers  and  went  to  his  chair  at  the 
table,  so  that  he  might  be  opposite  to  his  brother,  "it 
is  just  such  a  sentiment  as  that  which  has  produced 
this  calamity." 

"Do  you  call  it  a  calamity?"  demanded  Arthur.  "I 
should  say  that  nothing  better  could  have  happened 
for  the  safety  of  Engand.  Sooner  or  later  we  should 
have  had  to  fight  these  Huns,  for  their  arrogance  was 
becoming  intolerable,  and  now  we  have  got  them  very 
neatly  between  hammer  and  anvil.  Nothing  could  be 
better.  With  Russia  on  one  side,  and  France  and  our- 
selves on  the  other,  Germany  is  going  to  be  squeezed 
till  there  isn't  a  drop  of  conceit  or  a  microbe  of  danger 
left  in  her  disgusting  carcass." 

Christopher  turned  to  James.  "Does  he  often  talk 
like  this?"  he  asked,  and  not  very  playfully. 

"I  suppose  my  sentiments  shock  you,"  said  Arthur ; 
"but  I  assure  you  they  are  the  sentiments  of  most  of 
your  fellow-countrymen." 


140  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"Does  it  occur  to  you,"  asked  Christopher,  "that 
there  are  people  in  Germany  just  as  moral,  just  as 
educated,  just  as  kind,  and  just  as  anxious  for  the 
peace  and  happiness  of  the  world  as  any  in  England 
and  that  these  civilized  and  religious  people  in  Germany 
have  been  overborne  by  just  such  people  in  this  country 
as  yourself,  whose  only  attitude  of  mind  to  the  rest  of 
the  world  is  that  of  pride,  jealousy,  and  hatred?  You 
are  one  of  the  war-makers.  You  are  one  of  the  jingoes 
to  be  found  in  every  nation.  And  like  these  other  fire- 
eaters,  these  other  fomenters  of  hatred,  you  are  send- 
ing other  people  to  do  the  fighting  for  you.  Why  don't 
you  enlist?" 

Mr.  Sterling  laughed  in  his  soft  and  deprecating 
way.  "But,  my  dear  Christopher,  is  it  to  be  thought 
of  that  LucuUus  should  doff  such  vestments  as 
you  now  behold  him  wearing  (observe  the  quality 
of  his  soft  shirt  and  the  texture  of  his  black  tie 
and  I  wish  you  could  see  his  shoes  and  socks  under 
the  table)  for  so  hideous  and  democratic  a  stuff 
as  khaki?" 

Arthur  assured  his  father  that  if  the  call  ever  came 
for  men  of  his  age  he  would  very  gladly  put  on  khaki, 
and  go  forth  to  slay  as  many  "swine  Germans"  as  he 
could  get  at. 

"May  I  live  to  see  that  day,"  said  his  father,  and 
rising  from  his  chair,  as  if  to  end  the  controversy,  he 
suggested  that  they  should  go  upstairs. 

Christopher,  saying  that  he  had  much  writing  to  do 


HELPING  THE  ENEMY  141 

before  he  went  to  bed,  took  leave  of  the  family  in  the 
hall,  and  hurried  back  to  his  home. 
L^  On  the  following  day,  before  setting  out  to  the  head- 
l^piarters  of  the  Emergency  Committee,  he  paid  a  visit 
I^P  Carl  Pommer,  thinking  to  himself  that  if  any  one 
m  England  should  subscribe  to  this  work  of  charity  it 
was  the  nationalized  baker  of  Walworth,  of  whose 
prosperous  circumstances  he  had  a  number  of  evi- 
dences. 
He  found  Pommer  in  a  surly  mood. 
"These  English  newspapers,"  he  declared  in  a  loud 
voice,  smiting  with  his  clenched  fist  one  which  he  had 
been   reading   when    Christopher   entered   the    shop, 
"ought  to  be  stopped  by  the  Government.    They  are  a 
disgrace  to  England.    What  is  the  glory  of  England? 
— it  is  her  liberalism,  her  sense  of  justice,  her  love  of 
fair-play.    And  here  you  have  papers  which  are  illib- 
eral, unjust,  and  tyrannical,  selling  in  millions !    What 
do  they  say?    They  speak  as  if  every  German  was  a 
wild-beast,  a  monster,  a  devil  out  of  hell.    They  do  not 
appeal  to  the  good  people  in  Germany ;  they  do  not  ex- 
plain to  the  socialists  in  Germany  what  we  are  fighting 
for;  they  do  not  tell  the  English  people  that  the  Ger- 
mans are  the  victims  of  the  Prussian  Government.  No ; 
they  tell  lies,  they  tell  lies !  These  atrocities  in  Belgium, 
they  make  out  that  every  German  applauds  them.  That 
is  a  lie.    They  know  it  is  a  lie.    What  is  the  population 
of  Germany?    It  is  fifty  per  cent,  more  than  the  popu- 
lation of  England.    What  does  that  mean?    It  means 


142  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

that  there  are  fifty  per  cent,  more  blackguards  in  Ger- 
many than  in  England.  Of  course  there  are  black- 
guards, and  of  course  there  are  atrocities.  In  war  you 
always  have  atrocities.  But  who  is  the  guilty  one? 
Not  the  German  people.  It  is  the  Prussian  soldier,  the 
Prussian  landowner,  the  Prussian  manufacturer.  Why 
don't  these  papers  say  so?  Ach,  they  want  to  make 
people  here  angry.  It  is  their  policy.  They  think  that 
England  will  not  fight  properly  unless  she  is  in  a  rage. 
But  what  about  English  justice,  honesty,  fair-play — 
what  about  that,  I  ask  you  ?" 

Christopher  could  get  no  more  than  one  pound  out 
of  the  baker,  and  he  went  away  more  than  ever  con- 
vinced that  to  stir  up  hatred  is  a  crime  against  God 
and  man.    He  had  confidently  expected  ten  pounds. 

This  work  on  which  he  was  engaged  not  only  oc- 
cupied all  his  time,  but  absorbed  his  affections.  Its 
interest  was  so  great,  its  appeal  so  poignant,  that  he 
never  knew  till  the  end  of  each  day  how  utterly  he  had 
exhausted  himself.  He  would  often  return  so  entirely 
fatigued  that  he  could  not  eat  his  supper  and  would 
go  straight  to  his  bed.  Not  a  day  passed  but  he  looked 
into  human  eyes  filled  with  fear.  Fear  came  to  mean 
in  his  mind  something  much  more  terrible  than  he  had 
ever  imagined  it  to  be.  It  seemed  to  him  a  degrada- 
tion of  the  human  soul.  A  woman's  eyes  full  of  fear 
hurt  hin?  as  though  she  denied  her  divinity,  as  though 
she  asserted  kinship  with  animals.  He  could  not  have 
prosecuted  this  work  but  for  the  restoration  of  its 


I 


HELPING  THE  ENEMY  143 


mercy.  He,  the  instrument  of  the  Committee,  could 
see  the  fear  die  out  of  those  hunted  eyes,  could  see 
incredible  hope  returning,  could  see  in  the  end  a  blind- 
ing gratitude  shining  there,  gratitude  which  bowed  his 
heart  to  the  dust. 

Many  a  German  and  Austrian  woman  said  to  him 
in  those  days,  "You  call  us  Friend,  we  whom  every- 
body else  calls  either  an  enemy,  or  an  alien,  or  words 
much  worse;  ah,  it  is  a  beautiful  word,  the  word 
Friend,  and  that  is  what  God  meant  all  His  creatures 
to  be,  friends.  Why  should  our  neighbors  call  us  ene- 
mies ?  We  have  done  no  harm.  Did  we  want  this  war, 
this  wicked  war  which  has  taken  our  husbands  away 
from  us  ?  No ;  we  did  not  want  it.  The  women  never 
want  war." 

Some  of  these  women  were  quite  old,  and  their  sons 
and  grandsons  had  been  taken  away  from  them.  Many 
would  rest  their  heads  against  the  wall  of  a  bare  room, 
and  refuse  to  be  comforted. 

When  Christopher  returned  to  his  home  not  too 
exhausted  for  conversation,  he  and  Jane  would  com- 
pare notes  with  each  other,  her  work  lying  chiefly 
among  children.  She  would  tell  him  of  families  of 
little  children,  whom  she  had  found  starving  and 
terror-stricken  in  bare  rooms  and  whom  she  had  car- 
ried away  to  the  railway  station  and  dispatched  to 
happy  homes  in  the  country,  seeing  happiness  and  faith 
return  to  their  eyes. 

And  these  two  in  their  humble  room  above  the  chim- 


144  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

neys  and  roofs  of  London,  would  tell  each  other,  while 
the  fate  of  the  great  world  rocked  on  the  battlefields 
of  Europe,  that  there  was  only  one  moral  principle 
which  would  heal  humanity  of  all  its  wounds :  the  love 
principle  of  the  Master  whom  they  worshipped  and 
whom  they  obeyed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

FAMILY    DIFFERENCES 

THE  war  had  not  advanced  many  months  when 
James,  bareheaded  and  dressed  in  tweed  trousers 
'  and  a  sweater,  was  drilling  every  day  in  the  Green 
Park,  fitting  himself  for  a  place  in  the  fighting  ranks. 
Mrs.  Sterling  would  often  go  to  the  park,  and,  im- 
seen  by  James,  would  sit  on  a  chair  under  the  trees, 
watching  him  at  his  work,  with  such  grief  in  her  heart 
as  could  not  be  uttered.  She  knew  now,  if  she  had 
never  known  it  before,  that  her  youngest  was  her 
dearest.  Great  as  her  affection  still  was  for  Chris- 
topher, as  she  had  discovered  on  that  surprise  visit  of 
his  to  Portman  Square,  it  was  as  nothing  in  comparison 
with  this  overwhelming  devotion  to  his  brother  which 
she  knew  now  to  be  the  very  center  of  her  life. 

I  James  was  the  adorable  son,  gentle,  almost  feminine 
his  thought  fulness  for  others,  self-effacing,  tender, 
mpathetic,  and  delightful — delightful  intellectually, 
ilightful  in  personality.  He  was  not  yet  thirty,  and 
still  retained  the  freshness  of  his  wholesome  youth, 
with  no  loss  at  all  in  her  eyes  of  the  soft  beauty  of 
his  boyhood.    It  was  a  link  with  the  past  to  have  him 

145 


146  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

still  under  her  roof,  to  be  responsible  for  him,  to  see 
that  he  was  looked  after,  and  his  things  kept  as  they 
should  be  kept.  She  could  not  imagine  the  breakfast 
table  without  him.  His  coming  back  from  the  bank 
and  his  entrance  into  the  drawing-room  for  tea  was 
an  event  which  made  her  hurry  home  from  the  houses 
of  her  friends.  They  went  to  the  theater  together.  He 
would  read  to  her  from  a  volume  of  new  poems,  dis- 
cuss with  her  an  article  in  the  reviews,  or  a  book  of 
consequence,  and  there  was  no  one  he  more  loved  to 
have  at  his  side  in  visiting  exhibitions  of  pictures  or 
in  attending  sales. 

Mrs.  Sterling  would  sometimes  wonder  whether 
James  had  created  a  new  love  in  her  heart  or  had 
grown  up  to  inherit  the  love  which  Christopher  had 
left  desolate. 

Langton  had  come  home  from  the  front  as  a  colonel, 
and  after  a  few  days  of  tremendous  activity  had  gone 
back  with  the  promise  of  a  brigade.  He  had  no  stories 
to  tell  of  German  atrocities,  but  he  impressed  his  fam- 
ily very  much  by  his  recital  of  that  great  epic  retreat 
of  the  British  Armies  from  Mons.  He  spoke  highly 
of  the  Germans'  mass  discipline,  and  almost  lyrically 
of  the  British  soldier's  individual  valor.  He  told  them 
all  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  very  long  war,  and  that 
British  methods  would  have  to  be  revolutionized  before 
we  could  hope  for  victory. 

Mrs.  Sterling  felt  proud  of  Langton,  and  saw  a 
virtue  in  him  which  hitherto  she  had  perhaps  over- 


I 


FAMILY  DIFFERENCES  147 


looked.  He  was  now  something  more  than  the  good 
soldier:  he  was  part  of  that  impregnable  force  which 
held  the  German  avalanche  in  check.  She  realized  that 
there  was  a  form  of  intelligence  different  from  literary- 
intelligence,  and  that  in  this  intelligence  of  action  her 
soldier  son  was  a  signal  figure.  He  belonged  to  the 
brains  of  the  British  Army.  And  yet,  proud  of  him 
as  she  was,  she  felt  no  such  pang  at  parting  from 
him  as  had  pierced  her  heart  when  James  announced 
his  intention  to  enlist. 

She  had  wanted  James  to  wait  until  she  had  con- 
trived to  get  him  a  commission ;  but  he  begged  her  not 
to  attempt  any  such  thing,  declaring  that  he  was  quite 
unfit  for  so  great  a  responsibility.  He  said  to  her,  "I 
neglected  my  duty  in  not  joining  the  Territorials  when 
the  Government  was  begging  us  to  do  so  and  the 
National  Service  people  were  crabbing  the  whole  thing. 
Now  I  must  begin  at  the  bottom.  I'm  not  sorry  to  do 
so.  I  feel  I'm  nearer  to  Christopher.  He's  in  the 
ranks  of  England's  working-classes,  and  I'm  in  the 
ranks  of  her  democratic  Army.  It's  the  right  place 
for  men  like  him  and  me.  Arthur,  of  course,  could 
y  join  as  Field-Marshal,  bless  his  old  heart  !'* 
In  those  days  the  position  of  Arthur  Sterling  was 
one  of  historical  interest.  He  occupied  a  conspicuous 
place  in  the  army  of  London  Chatterers.  No  man 
dined  out  so  regularly  or  had  his  diary  more  crowded 
with  engagements.  He  was  forever  being  rung  up 
on  the  telephone  by  delightful  women  who  implored 


148  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

him  to  come  to  luncheon  or  to  tea.  His  letters  were 
invitations.  At  every  house  he  entered  he  met  some 
one  who  became  a  fresh  hostess. 

His  popularity  was  due  almost  entirely  to  his  fine 
Roman  face  and  his  authoritative  manner  of  speech. 
He  looked  like  a  man  who  knew  everything,  and  he 
spoke  as  one  who  was  in  the  confidence  of  statesmen. 
The  curious  thing  about  his  popularity  lay  in  the  fact 
that  no  one  ever  doubted  his  knowledge,  although  his 
prophecies  of  Monday  were  always  being  contradicted 
by  the  events  of  Tuesday.  A  woman  might  say  to 
another,  "Do  you  think  Mr.  Sterling  really  knows?" 
and  instantly  she  would  be  told  that  his  father  was 
going  every  day  between  the  Treasury  and  the  Bank 
of  England ;  that  some  one  had  assured  her  only  yes- 
terday that  Mr.  Sterling  was  hand  in  glove  with  the 
Prime  Minister,  and  that  everybody  in  London  knew 
perfectly  well  that  no  man  outside  official  circles  knew 
more  of  the  secrets  of  things  than  Arthur  Sterling. 

The  truth  is  that  in  those  days  people  were  willing, 
eagerly  willing,  pathetically  willing,  to  listen  to  any- 
one who  spoke  of  the  war  with  any  degree  of  authority. 
And  not  only  this :  there  were  crowds  of  people  hun- 
gering and  thirsting  after  gossip.  A  rumor  was  never 
too  absurd  to  be  debated  as  a  serious  truth  in  some  of 
the  most  famous  of  London  drawing-rooms.  People 
in  those  days,  like  certain  newspapers,  lived  on  sen- 
sationalism. 

Arthur  Sterling  had  not  only  seen  the  Russian  sol- 


I 


FAMILY  DIFFERENCES  149 


diers  who  passed  through  England,  but  knew  their 
exact  number,  a  State  secret  which  he  never  disclosed. 
He  could  tell  you  the  names  of  the  British  Generals 
who  had  been  sent  home,  the  regiments  which  had 
broken,  and  the  number  of  our  soldiers  who  had  been 
shot  for  cowardice  or  treachery.  He  was  well  posted, 
too,  in  the  matter  of  political  affairs,  and  was  always 
telling  people  to  look  out  for  some  sensational  change 
in  Downing  Street.  As  for  the  British  Navy,  he 
greatly  feared  that  one  day  there  would  be  a  fearful 
disclosure,  although  Royalty  itself  was  interfering  to 
hush  matters  up.  Occasionally,  in  the  midst  of  his 
chatter  about  the  conditions  of  things  in  France,  a 
woman  would  suddenly  rise  from  the  table  and  go 
towards  the  door  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  or 
her  mouth,  and  Arthur's  hostess  would  presently  ex- 
plain that  she  was  worrying  about  her  husband  or  her 
son  in  the  Army. 

H^t  must  not  be  imagined  that  Arthur  Sterling  was 
ponderous  in  his  gossip.  On  the  contrary,  he  regarded 
the  war  with  a  spirit  of  quite  philosophic  detachment, 
and  would  joke  about  it,  telling  stories  and  repeating 
epigrams  which  made  everybody  laugh.  He  never  lost 
his  appetite  or  an  hour's  sleep  during  the  most  critical 
period  of  hostilities,  and  thanks  to  his  good  health,  his 
humorous  disposition,  and  his  complete  selfishness, 
might  have  continued  in  this  spirit  to  the  end  of  the 
war  but  for  that  which  happened  to  him  in  191 6. 
It  need  not  be  said  that  he  kept  up  his  theatrical  con- 


150  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

nection,  and  was  always  in  the  van  of  every  society 
entertainment  which  sought  to  provide  comforts  for 
our  troops  and  occupation  for  our  photographed 
women. 

The  enlistment  of  James  did  not  greatly  trouble 
Arthur.  He  so  spoke  of  Langton  and  James  to  his 
friends  that  their  military  patriotism  reflected  some 
sort  of  glory  on  his  civilianship.  There  were  a  troop 
of  women  in  London  who  really  believed  that  Arthur 
adored  his  youngest  brother  and  was  suffering  torture 
at  the  thought  of  the  risk  he  was  preparing  himself  to 
encounter. 

But  to  Christopher  the  enlistment  of  James  really 
did  mean  something  very  hard  to  bear.  Mrs.  Sterling 
suffered,  but  felt  that  James  was  perfectly  right. 
Christopher  suffered,  feeling  that  James  was  wrong. 
He  shrank  with  something  akin  to  horror  from  the 
bare  idea  that  James  should  contemplate  the  killing  of 
a  fellow-creature.  His  spirit  rebelled  against  an  or- 
ganization of  society  which  should  render  possible  so 
great  a  desecration  of  so  noble  a  soul.  James  was  not 
meant  for  the  slaughter-house.  He  was  a  man  marked 
out  by  nature  for  the  finest  sensibility,  for  the  purest, 
the  most  innocent,  and  the  sublimest  joys ;  and  he  was 
being  taken  by  the  State  and  trained  in  the  pagan  blas- 
phemies of  murder. 

One  night  James  paid  a  visit  to  Christopher,  and 
when  Jane  had  gone  to  bed,  they  sat  over  the  fire  to- 
gether discussing  the  whole  matter. 


CHAPTER  Y 


TWO  MORALITIES 


(CT    GATHERED  from  the  letter  you  wrote  me  the 

1.  day  before  yesterday,"  said  James,  "that  you 
regard  my  enlistment  as  something  forced  upon  me. 
I  assure  you  there's  no  compulsion  whatever.  I've 
been  longing  to  fight  ever  since  Belgium  was  violated." 

"That  surprises  me,"  said  Christopher. 

"Well,  I  didn't  speak  of  it  because  I  saw  no  chance 
of  my  taking  any  part  in  the  fighting ;  but  I  wanted  to 
go  like  anything.  You  see,  I'm  something  of  a  cru- 
sader, something  of  a  knight." 

"I  see." 
IHpYou  and  I,"  continued  James,  "represent  what 
^ird  used  to  tell  us  at  Balliol  were  the  two  moralities 

tthe  Christian  religion." 
'The  moralities?" 
'Yes." 
'I  don't  understand  that.    Did  he  mean,  there  is  a 
#lity  in  the  Will  of  God?    I  don't  understand." 
He  used  to  tell  us,"  said  James,  "that  Christ  did  not 
come  to  destroy  the  normal  life  of  humanity  but  to 

Iprm  it  with  a  new  spirit.  Men  like  St.  Francis  and 
I 


151 


152  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

St.  Bernard  and  Tolstoy,  in  denying  normal  life,  in 
practicing  the  extremes  of  self-abnegation  and  obedi- 
ence, practiced  one  of  the  moralities  which  have  grown 
out  of  this  religion.  But  the  chivajry  of  the  knight- 
errant  represented  another  morality  of  this  same  re- 
ligion, and  was  inspired  and  strengthened  by  the  ex- 
treme devotion  of  the  monk  or  the  nun  who  denied 
their  human  nature  for  Christ's  sake.  The  knight 
resists  evil,  he  refuses  to  parley  with  the  enemies  of 
God,  he  rides  abroad  to  slay  the  dragon  of  sin,  his 
whole  life  is  set  upon  building  the  towers  of  the  eternal 
city." 

Christopher,  who  had  been  sitting  forward  in  his 
chair,  with  his  hands  resting  on  its  arms,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  dwindling  glow  between  the  bars  of  the 
kitchen  range,  sat  back,  stretched  out  his  legs  to  the 
fender,  and  without  looking  at  James  replied  as  fol- 
lows :  "Between  these  two  moralities  the  world  has  not 
got  very  far  upon  its  road.  They  seem  to  me  rather 
like  two  masters.  Surely  it  is  better  for  men  to  haye 
one  master.  Of  course  one  sees  what  Caird  meant.  It 
is  obvious  that  Christ  did  not  come  to  shut  men  up  in 
monasteries.  He  did  not  visit  humanity  to  destroy 
human  nature.  But  in  presenting  a  new  spirit  for 
human  life  he  laid  down  one  fundamental  principle. 
He  laid  down  the  great  law  of  Love.  Men  are  to  love 
God.  Without  this  love  for  the  divine  Fatherhood 
they  must  be  lost  in  a  maze  of  errors.  And  they  are 
to  love  their  fellow-men.    They  cannot  love  God  with- 


TWO  MORALITIES  153 

loving  their  brothers,  and  they  cannot  truly  love 
their  brothers  without  loving  God.  Now,  what  puzzles 
me  is  this :  how  a  man  who  professes  to  love  God  can 
disobey  Him,  and  how  a  man  who  professes  to  love  his 
brother  can  kill  him.  Do  you  remember  Tertullian's 
saying,  that  Christ  disarmed  humanity  in  taking  away 
Peter's  sword?" 

James  found  it  difficult  to  reply  to  this  direct  charge. 
He  knew  the  answer  he  had  to  give  but  how  could  it 
be  given  without  hurting  Christopher  very  sharply,  and 
without  leading  to  an  intimate  discussion  which  he  felt 
would  be  painful  to  both  of  them? 

Instead  of  making  this  direct  answer,  then,  he  said 
that  he  regarded  the  right  kind  of  patriotism  as  a  part 
of  religion,  and  that  if  a  man  loved  his  country,  surely 
he  ought  to  be  willing  to  die  for  her,  just  as  a  man 
should  be  prepared  to  die  for  his  faith. 

"I  remember,"  he  said,  "a  phrase  of  Caird's  which 
exactly  expresses  my  views  on  this  subject.  He  used 
to  tell  us  that  a  nation  lives  when  its  sons  are  ready 

I  die  for  it." 
"As  the  Germans  are  now  dying,"  said  Christopher. 
"Well,  yes :  Germany  lives  by  virtue  of  German  self- 
sacrifice." 

"But  won't  you  agree,  my  dear  fellow,  that  it  would 
have  been  better  for  the  world  if  these  German  soldiers 
had  been  willing  to  die  for  humanity,  and  quite  un- 

fling  to  die  for  a  system  of  Government  ?" 
'Yes,  I  see  that.    But  since  they  are  attacking  my 


154  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

country,  which  I  love,  I  am  ready  to  defend  my  coun- 
try against  any  system  of  Government  which  they 
might  impose  upon  it." 

"It  is  your  country  you  are  prepared  to  fight  for?" 

"Yes." 

"What  does  your  country  mean  to  you?" 

"Ah,  my  dear  Christopher,  if  I  could  tell  you  that 
without  making  an  ass  of  myself !  I've  tried  to  express 
it  in  some  poems.  I  must  send  you  a  copy  when  they 
are  published.  It  is  easier  to  describe  love  of  country 
in  verse  than  in  prose." 

"But  what  does  your  country  mean  to  you,  tell  me 
that?    Fm  deeply  interested." 

"I  know  very  well  you'd  hear  me  out  sympathet- 
ically." 

"Of  course." 

"And  yet  it's  so  difficult  to  express  these  things  pro- 
saically. Besides,  I  feel  I  might  unintentionally  hurt 
your  feelings.  Your  view,  I  know,  is  to  place  humanity 
above  nationalism." 

"Never  mind  about  my  view." 

James  flushed  a  little,  smiling  self-consciously,  shift- 
ing uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  then  with  a  laugh  began 
to  speak.  "Well,  here  goes,"  he  said.  "I  am  a  youngish 
man,  extremely  fond  of  life,  not  very  certain  of  any 
immortality  beyond  the  grave,  and  rather  a  coward  in 
the  matter  of  pain,  or  even  of  ugly  sights :  and  yet  I 
am  soberly  willing  to  die  for  my  country:  to  put  it 
more  strongly  and  more  beautifully,  I  can  say  I  should 


I 


TWO  MORALITIES 


155 


feel  it  a  sort  of  ecstasy  to  die  for  England.    Well,  I  ask 
myself  what  is  it  in  England  that  enables  me  to  trans- 
rend  nature  in  this  illogical  manner  ?    What  do  I  mean 
rhen  I  use  the  great  name  of  England  ?    I  mean  Eng- 
md's  justice,  England's  liberty,  England's  wide  toler- 
ice,  England's  goodness.    But  the  spirit  of  England 
too  high  a  mystery  for  language.    All  I  can  say  is 
lat  when  I  try  to  think  what  this  spirit  means  to  me 
ly  brain  is  stunned  and  my  heart  overflows." 
His  face  became  grave,  his  voice  sank  to  a  lower  key, 
it  spoke  with  a  greater  intensity,  free  of  all  self-con- 
nousness,  as  though  he  were  explaining  to  himself 
rhy  he  was  willing  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his  country : 
think  it  is  best  to  leave  all  the  big  words  alone,  and 
stick  ta  the  little  words  which  belong  only  to  us. 
^fter  all,  every  nation  would  say  it  is  fighting  for  lib- 
erty and  justice.    I  am  ready  to  die  for  English  liberty, 
and  English  justice,  but  I  mean  by  those  words  all 
>rts  of  things  which  belong  to  England  alone.    When 
use  the  words  English  liberty  I  think  of  Eton,  and 
)xford,  and  Westminster  Abbey,   and  my  mother, 
'hen  there's  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare  and  Herrick 
id  Wordsworth  and  Browning.     Then  there's  Pur- 
ill's  music,  and  Arne's  and  Bishop's.  Then  there's  the 
English  farm,  the  village  green  with  a  cricket  match 
)ing  on,  the  hedgerows  in  spring,  the  woods  in  au- 
m,  and  the  hills  in  all  weathers.    Then  there's  the 
dndness  of  everybody — ^the  cheeriness  of  our  people, 
leir  hospitality,  their  good-nature,  their  playfulness. 


156  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

I  think  I  could  die  for  the  essays  of  Elia,  or  for  Mr. 
Pickwick,  or  for  old  Dobbin.  You  know  what  I  mean  ? 
—  everything  that's  happy  and  good-humored,  and 
kindly,  everything  that  we  understand  and  feel  when 
we  speak  of  English  character  or  the  Englishman.  I 
mean  our  Englishness.  I  feel  it  looking  at  the  pictures 
of  Reynolds,  Gainsborough,  and  Romney.  I  feel  it 
reading  Henry  V.  and  the  Merry  Wives.  I  feel  it 
looking  at  Georgian  architecture  or  the  traditional  cot- 
tages of  Sussex  and  Gloucestershire.  I  feel  it  thinking 
of  what  our  men  have  done  in  India  and  Egypt — a 
mere  handful  of  them.  I  feel  it  when  I  hear  names 
like  Havelock,  Livingstone,  Lawrence.  It's  something 
not  to  be  phrased,  not  to  be  defined — only  to  be  felt 
like  a  wind.  It's  like  the  word  Honor,  or  the  word 
Chivalry.  It  sounds  like  a  trumpet  in  my  soul.  Every- 
thing I  can  conceive  of  as  beautiful  and  true  is  ex- 
pressed for  me  in  the  name  of  England.  And  because 
I  feel  that  between  the  spirit  of  England  and  the  spirit 
of  Germany  there  is  an  antagonism  which  cannot  be 
reconciled,  I  am  going  to  fight  in  the  ranks  of  England ; 
and  quite  truthfully,  with  no  manner  of  exaggeration, 
I  can  say  that  to  die  for  England,  so  that  she  may  still 
be  the  England  I  love,  will  be  for  me  a  sort  of  ecstasy." 
He  paused  for  a  moment,  then  added,  "I  mean  every 
word  I  have  said." 

Christopher  was  deeply  moved.  He  had  listened 
with  acute  attentiveness,  and  had  allowed  the  spirit 
pi  the  words  as  well  as  the  words  themselves  to  enter 


I 


TWO  MORALITIES  157 


his  mind.  He  knew  very  well  that  throughout  Europe 
there  were  thousands  of  young  men  going  up  to  the 
slaughter-house  in  this  same  spirit.  He  shuddered  at 
the  coming  massacre  of  such  beautiful  youth.  A  score 
of  times  he  could  have  interrupted  his  brother  with 
challenging  questions  which  would,  in  his  opinion,  have 
scattered  James's  poetic  patriotism  to  the  winds,  but 
he  refrained  because  he  was  striving  to  understand  this 
spirit  which  was  impelling  myriads  of  young  men  to 
offer  their  lives  for  that  which  he  regarded  as  a 
phantom. 

After  James  had  finished  speaking,  Christopher  got 
up  from  his  chair  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
little  room,  very  slowly,  with  his  hands  in  his  jacket 
pockets,  his  head  bent,  his  eyes  following  the  move- 
ments of  his  feet. 

"We  all  love  England  in  that  way,"  he  said  quietly ; 
**how  can  we  help  ourselves? — she's  so  lovable.  My 
love  for  her  has  increased  incredibly  since  I  lived  with 
my  present  neighbors.  You  spoke  of  England's  cheeri- 
ness;  it's  a  word  characteristic  of  the  nation,  a  very 
significant  and  potent  word,  and  never  to  be  under- 
stood, I  think,  until  one  sees  the  thing  itself  in  people 
the  logic  of  whose  circumstances  is  all  in  the  direction 
of  bitterness  and  despair.  There's  some  stuff  in  Eng- 
lish character  splendid  beyond  the  measurement  of  lan- 
guage ;  and  he  who  loves  England  as  part  of  his  love 
for  God  will  be  very  willing  to  die  in  order  that  Eng- 
lish character  may  live." 


158  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  that." 

Christopher  was  silent  for  some  moments,  walking 
slowly  up  and  down  the  room,  absorbed  in  thought. 
Presently  raising  his  head,  and  looking  straight  before 
him,  he  said: 

"You  know  how  Arthur,  or  any  other  vulgar  person, 
distresses  you  when  he  makes  sweeping  judgments  and 
wholesale  condemnations:  you  know  how  your  mind 
rebels,  for  example,  against  his  shallow  abuse  of  the 
entire  German  nation,  when  he  calls  them  Huns,  or 
swine,  or  something  equally  severe  ?  Isn't  war  rather 
like  that?  Isn't  war  the  physical  equivalent  of  such 
a  mental  condition?  A  soldier  must  kill  wholesale. 
He  doesn't  discriminate.  His  indictment  is  drawn  up 
against  a  whole  nation.  A  young  German  banker,  in- 
spired by  just  such  a  patriotism  as  yours,  will  not  stop 
to  inquire  whether  you  are  a  jingo  or  a  pacifist,  an 
atheist  or  a  Christian,  but  will  seek  to  kill  you  in  the 
conviction  that  you  intend  to  pillage  his  cities,  dis- 
honor his  women,  ruin  his  country,  dismember  his 
empire.  So,  too,  you  will  seek  to  slay  him.  And  thus 
war  goes  on.  It  is  the  inevitable  consequence  of  a 
spHrit  antagonistic  to  Christianity.  It  is  hatred  in 
action." 

James  agreed,  but  felt  himself  being  gradually 
drawn  away  from  the  actual  into  the  region  of  dreams. 

"You  must  not  think,"  said  Christopher,  with  a 
strange  emphasis  which  immediately  fixed  James's  at- 
tention, "that  I  am  playing  with  words.    You  mustn't 


TWO  MORALITIES 


159 


ink  either  that  I  have  come  lightly  by  my  opinions, 
know  very  well  how  natural  your  opinions  must  seem 
you,  and  how  very  unreal  those  which  I  am  attempt- 
ig  to  state.  But  let  me  try  to  explain  why  I  think 
lese  opinions  of  mine  are  sounder  than  yours.  Yours 
ive  been  tried  down  the  centuries.  They  have  been 
It  in  practice  for  thousands  of  years.  They  are  opiu- 
ms founded  on  the  principle  that  the  strong  survive, 
lat  might  is  right,  that  force  is  the  ultimate  authority, 
'he  Germans  have  acted  on  this  theory,  but  so  have 
le  French,  the  Russians,  and  ourselves.  The  only  real 
ifference  between  us  in  this  respect  is  that  the  Ger- 
mans act  upon  these  opinions  with  a  greater  thorough- 
ness. What  is  the  result  ?  It  is  war :  it  is  the  murder 
_and  mutilation  of  myriads  of  innocent  young  men,  sac- 
iced  to  a  false  theory  held  by  the  old,  who  wait  cow- 
ing behind  the  valor  and  the  agonies  of  the  young 
know  how  the  result  will  affect  them.  Isn't  that 
le?  Isn't  it  true  that  these  theories  of  yours  have 
;en  tried  for  centuries?  And  isn't  it  true  that  the 
isult  is  still — war?" 

James  agreed  again,  this  time  with  a  certain  misgiv- 
in  his  mind. 

'My  theory,"  continued  Christopher,  "strikes  you 
unreal  only  because  it  has  never  been  tried.  But 
msider  how  that  theory  stands.  What  is  its  founda- 
lon?  Its  foundation  is  the  moral  law.  The  moral 
iw  distinguishes  the  gentleman  from  the  scoundrel. 
The  moral  law  says  that  we  are  not  to  be  selfish  and 


i6o  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

covetous,  that  we  are  not  to  struggle  and  jostle  for 
the  feeding  trough ;  but  it  says  something  more :  it  says 
that  we  are  to  regard  all  men  as  the  children  of  a  single 
Fatherhood,  and  that  we  are  to  labor  for  the  good  of 
the  whole  and  not  for  the  prosperity  of  the  part.  Has 
this  theory  ever  been  tried  ?  On  the  face  of  it,  isn't  it 
a  more  reasonable  theory  than  the  other  ?" 

He  stopped,  facing  towards  James,  and  for  the  first 
time  looked  at  him.  "Doesn't  it  strike  you  that  if 
Christ  was  in  any  sense  of  the  word  a  messenger  from 
God  he  must  have  declared  to  men  ideas  which  were 
true  ideas,  and  surely  ideas  on  which  all  those  who 
recognize  his  mission  should  be  willing  to  build  their 
theory  of  life?  Honestly,  James,  doesn't  it  strike  you 
as — well,  as  grotesque  and  absurd,  that  men  who  pro- 
fess to  mould  their  lives  upon  the  teaching  of  Christ 
should  flagrantly  disobey  him  in  the  very  foundations 
of  that  teaching?" 

"Yes,  of  course  it  does." 

"Think  of  the  world  at  the  present  moment.  In 
Germany  there  are  Catholic  and  Protestant  teachers  of 
this  revealed  religion  fomenting  national  hatred  and 
urging  their  people  to  slay  the  people  of  England, 
France,  and  Russia.  And  so  it  is  in  England,  France, 
Russia.  Think  of  it!  Isn't  it  like  a  world  of  mad- 
ness ?  Doesn't  it  make  you  feel  that  humanity  is  irra- 
tional? Christ  said.  Resist  not  evil,  and.  Love  your 
enemies.  Those  are  his  words.  They  are  not  counsels 
of  perfection,  any  more  than  the  commandment  against 


TWO  MORALITIES  i6i' 


taken  literally.     They  are  teachings  foundational  to 

Iverything  else  he  had  to  say.  His  whole  mission  was 
b  declare  the  supremacy  of  love.  Everything  was  said 
men  He  declared  that  God  is  Love.  And  you  have 
mristians  in  all  the  belligerent  armies,  urged  on  by 
riests  and  ministers,  going  out  every  day  to  kill  their 
brethren  of  the  faith." 

James  made  an  effort  to  defend  his  logic.  **My  dear 
Christopher,"  he  said,  "I  agree  with  everything  you 
say.  I  myself  would  not  fight  for  an  hour  to  add  the 
whole  of  Europe  to  the  British  Empire.  Nothing  I 
think  could  have  persuaded  me  to  fight  against  the 
Boers.  I  hate  war.  I  regard  it  as  irrational  and  un- 
christian. But  everything  you  say  strikes  me  as  appro- 
priate only  to  the  conclusion  of  these  present  hostilities. 
The  house  of  life  is  in  flames.  When  we  have  got  the 
fire  well  under,  then  we  may  talk  about  the  restoration 
of  that  house.  But  while  it  burns  I  must  fight  the 
flames." 

■  "But  you  do  not  think  that  war  can  end  war?" 
James  considered.  **Yes,  I  think  I  do.    I  think  that 
this  war  will  end  war." 

"How  can  you  believe  that?" 
j^»  "When  Germany  is  beaten,"  replied  James,  "her  de- 
HF>cracy  will  overturn  the  whole  system  of  Prussian- 
ism,  and  that  will  give  us  a  new  Europe." 

I  "Surely  not  a  new  Europe!    I  mean  there  will  be 
struggle  for  markets,  a  war  of  tariffs,  international 


i62  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

covetousness,  international  animosities,  and  so,  more 
wars.  Won't  it  be  the  same  Europe  in  all  its  essentials 
whatever  may  be  the  changes  in  its  forms  of  govern- 
ment?" 

"I  suppose  there  will  always  be  competition." 

"My  argument  is,"  said  Christopher,  "that  what 
Europe  needs,  if  humanity  is  to  be  saved,  if  men  are 
to  be  delivered  from  the  tyranny  of  the  present  dis- 
pensation, is  not  a  new  form  of  Government,  but  a 
new  heart,  a  new  spirit.  I  mean,  Europe  to  be  saved 
must  believe  that  the  utterances  of  Christ  are  axiomatic 
of  rational  existence :  that  he  said  what  he  meant :  that 
he  revealed  to  us  the  real  Will  of  God.  Without  this 
conversion,  which  alone  can  give  to  mankind  a  trans- 
valuation  of  values,  how  can  Europe  do  anything  but 
blunder  along  the  road  of  hatred  and  murder  and 
destruction?  War  can  never  end  war.  One  power 
only  can  pluck  out  from  the  heart  of  man  the  root- 
cause  of  such  calamities,  and  that  is  the  power  of 
Christ." 

James  had  nothing  to  say  to  this. 

"Do  you  see  what  I  mean?"  asked  Christopher. 
"Until  the  human  will  is  surrendered  to  God  it  is  at 
the  disposition  of  the  devil.  All  is  chaos  and  confusion 
without  a  principle.  The  Prussian  has  a  principle,  and 
acts  upon  it :  hence  his  power  and  efficiency.  But  what 
is  our  principle?  We  say  it  is  not  the  Prussian's,  we 
say  indeed  that  we  are  fighting  this  Prussian  principle ; 
but  our  principle  is  the  same,  just  the  same,  only  we 


I 


TWO  MORALITIES  163 


are  not  so  entirely  convinced  as  the  Prussian  that  it  is 
the  right  principle,  and  so  we  don't  act  upon  it  as 
thoroughly  as  he  does.  What  we  do  not  acknowledge 
as  the  true  principle  is  the  Will  of  God,  and  that  is  the 
only  principle  which  can  overthrow  the  Prussian.  This 
war  is  not  a  struggle  between  the  man  Nietzsche  and 
the  sane  and  lucid  Christ.  Christ  never  struggles.  You 
can  never  force  him  into  the  lists.  Nietzsche  fights 
Nietzsche;  madman  tears  madman;  Christ  is  outside 
the  conflict,  waiting  for  man  to  turn  to  him  for 
healing." 

Christopher  sighed  as  he  said  these  last  words,  and 
regarded  his  brother  very  sorrowfully.  "What  dis- 
tresses me  so  much  in  your  enlistment,"  he  said  heavily, 
"is  my  conviction  that  God  made  you  for  the  spearless 
army  of  his  Christ.  You  have  all  the  qualities  of  a 
disciple.  All  that  is  lacking  is  decision,  the  will  to 
decide  for  love.  I  wish  you  could  make  that  decision. 
I  wish  with  all  my  heart  you  could  make  it.  Believe 
me,  in  the  times  that  are  coming,  Christ  will  need  every 
recruit  who  will  take  service  at  his  hands.  I  can  feel 
now,  with  every  day  that  passes,  a  greater  force,  a 
stronger  drive,  a  more  irresistible  energy,  in  the  powers 
of  darkness.  We  are  only  at  the  beginning  of  calamity. 
These  dark  powers  of  the  universe  are  surrounding  the 
homestead  of  humanity,  shutting  it  out  from  the  light 
of  God's  love,  covering  it  with  storm,  shaking  it  with 
tempest,  blackening  it  with  the  shadow  of  destruction. 
Man  is  alone  with  the  powers  of  darkness.    God  has 


I 


i64         x:hrtstopher  sterling 

not  turned  away  His  face  from  the  earth,  but  man  has 
called  these  powers  of  darkness  about  him,  and  they 
have  blotted  out  th'e  face  of  God.  We  are  surrounded 
by  the  enemies  of  our  peace.  We  are  threatened  by 
the  enemies  of  God.  A  destiny  more  terrible  than  any 
man  of  these  times  can  imagine  awaits  the  human  race. 
This  war  is  only  the  muttering  of  the  storm.  However 
long  it  may  last  still  it  will  be  only  the  muttering  of 
the  storm.  The  storm  will  break  when  peace  is  de- 
clared, and  it  will  last  till  it  has  destroyed  mortality." 

He  uttered  another  deep  sigh  and  passed  his  hands 
over  his  head  like  a  man  distraught,  standing  there  in 
front  of  his  brother,  with  a  brightness  in  his  eyes 
which  seemed  to  James  like  the  glitter  of  fever. 

4flDon't  you  see,"  he  asked,  almost  pleadingly,  "that 
every  man  who  takes  up  a  sword  to  fight  adds  to  the 
power  of  hatred,  and  that  every  man  who  refuses  to 
fight  and  who  labors  in  the  name  and  power  of  Christ 
to  befriend  his  fellow-creatures  helps  to  save  the  world 
— to  save  the  world?  Do  our  newspapers  tell  you  of 
people  in  Germany  who  are  working  as  we  are  work- 
ing here  to  minister  to  the  innocent  victims  of  war? 
Do  you  know  why  they  do  not  tell  you  of  the  Quakers 
in  Germany,  working  with  German  pastors  and  Ger- 
man professors  and  German  citizens  to  comfort  and 
befriend  our  English  people  over  there  ?  It  is  because 
they  want  to  stamp  out  the  last  smouldering  embers  of 
love  left  on  this  perishing  earth,  and  to  leave  us  noth- 
ing, nothing  but  hatred.    It  is  the  same  with  German 


I 


TWO  MORALITIES  165 


newspapers.  They  exhibit  us  as  monsters,  as  heartless 
monsters  who  would  starve  women  and  children  into 
submission,  who  ill-treat  our  prisoners,  who  torture 
the  wounded,  who  commit  a  thousand  atrocities.  What 
is  their  object?  It  is  the  same  as  our  newspapers'. 
They  fear  the  power  of  love,  and  they  believe  in  the 
power  of  hate.  That  is  to  say,  their  allegiance  is  not 
to  God,  but  to  the  devil.  What  can  come  to  such  a 
world  ?  We  are  sowing  hatred  with  both  hands.  We 
are  trampling  under  our  feet  the  little  love  left  in  the 
world.  What  can  be  the  end?  You  know  that  the 
end  cannot  be  God's  will." 

As  James  walked  home  through  the  dark  streets,  he 
said  to  himself  that  everything  in  this  discussion 
turned  upon  a  question  which  neither  of  them  liad 
discussed,  the  providence  of  God. 

■^"Christopher  believes  in  a  God  who  governs  the 
■rorld,"  he  told  himself,  "and  who  would  do  things  for 
us,  if  only  we  would  surrender  our  wills  to  His.  I  do 
not  believe  in  such  a  God.  I  believe  that  we  have  got 
to  do  things  for  ourselves.  God  has  left  the  world  to 
our  ruling,  and  the  world  must  be  saved  from  Prus- 
■■bnism  if  it  is  to  be  free.  No:  Christopher  is  the 
saint  in  his  cell,  and  I  am  the  policeman  on  the  road 
outside.  I  am  a  little  less  selfish  and  a  little  more 
gentle  because  of  him;  but  he  would  be  knocked  on 
the  head  if  it  were  not  for  me." 

I  So  James  went  out  by  the  same  door  wherein  he 
jnt,  and  Christopher  the  same. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MR.  POMMER 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  while  Jane  was  prepar- 
ing breakfast  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  Christopher 
was  polishing  their  shoes  beside  the  open  window,  a 
note  from  Mrs.  Pommer  was  delivered  at  the  door 
asking  Christopher  to  come  and  see  her  immediately. 
"Please  come  at  once,"  ran  the  penciled  message ;  "we 
are  in  great  trouble,  and  I  fear  for  Mr.  Pommer's 
reason." 

Christopher  would  have  started  off  there  and  then, 
but  Jane  insisted  that  he  should  first  eat  his  basin  of 
porridge.  Both  of  them  concluded  that  one  of  the  sons 
had  been  killed  in  the  war. 

But  when  Christopher  arrived  in  the  street  where 
the  Pommers  lived  he  saw  very  quickly  what  had  hap- 
pened. For  the  polished  windows  were  invisible  behind 
shutters,  and  in  front  of  the  shutters  stood  two  police- 
men, facing  a  small  crowd  of  disreputable-looking 
people,  and  of  the  household  windows  above  the  shop 
there  was  hardly  one  with  a  whole  pane  of  glass. 

When  Christopher  entered  the  parlor  he  found  Mr. 
Pommer  crumpled  up  in  a  chair,  his  head  bowed,  and 

i66 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MR.  POMMER         167 


15  hands  before  his  face ;  the  poor  fellow  was  sobbing 
d  groaning  like  a  child.    Beside  her  husband's  chair, 
tting  his  shoulder  and  bidding  him  not  to  take  it  so 
much  to  heart,  stood  Mrs.  Pommer,  pale  and  tearful. 

I  daughter  was  clearing  away  a  breakfast  which  no 
le  seemed  to  have  eaten. 
Pommer  was  in  shirt  sleeves,  and  wearing  carpet- 
ippers.    His  hair  was  unbrushed,  and  he  looked  as 
ough  he  had  slept  in  his  clothes. 
At  Christopher's  entrance  his  groans  increased  and 
s  sobs  redoubled.    He  did  not  remove  his  hands  from 
his  face,  and  continued  rocking  himself  backwards  and 
forwards  from  his  hips.    He  was  the  very  picture  of 
ruin  and  despair. 
"It  happened  last  night,"  said  Mrs.  Pommer,  in  a  low 
^Kid  weary  voice.     "For  three  or  four  days  they  had 
Tbeen  writing  things  up  in  chalk  on  our  shutters,  calling 
us  Huns,  and  all  that.    And  Mr.  Pommer  had  been 
receiving  post-cards  and  anonymous  letters  for  more 
than  a  week,  abusing  him  dreadfully,  and  using  such 
language  as  I  couldn't  repeat  to  you — oh,  horrible  lan- 
^fi;uage :  well,  horrible  isn't  the  word,  it  was  filthy.    But 
^Hre  never  thought  it  would  come  to  this.    Business  did 
drop  off,  and  people  were  sometimes  sarcastic  to  us 
in  the  shop;  but  we  never  thought  that  they  would 
make  a  raid  on  the  shop.    They  came  last  night,  about 
^^Bven  o'clock,  just  before  we  were  closing.    You  never 
saw  such  a  crowd  in  your  life.    Oh,  dreadful  looking 
eople  out  of  the  slums — women  like  animals,  and  men 


i68  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

like  devils — dreadful  people  they  were.  First  of  all 
they  charged  into  the  shop  and  began  taking  what  they 
chose.  Mr.  Pommer  stood  up  to  them,  but  one  of  the 
men  struck  him  in  the  eye  and  then  in  the  mouth, 
knocking  him  down  on  the  floor  and  kicking  him.  I 
just  had  time  to  pull  him  inside  the  parlor,  or  they'd 
have  murdered  him.  When  they'd  pretty  near  cleared 
the  shop  they  went  outside  and  began  throwing  stones 
at  the  windows,  breaking  all  the  glass  from  the  top  to 
the  bottom.  I  thought  we  should  all  be  killed.  You 
never  heard  such  yelling.  It  was  like  a  lot  of  fiends. 
I  said  to " 

At  this  point  Pommer  suddenly  leaped  up  from  his 
chair. 

He  looked  half  tragic  and  half  comic,  standing  there 
in  shirt-sleeves  and  carpet-slippers  with  a  wet  face,  a 
black  eye,  and  a  mouth  all  swollen  and  clotted  with 
blood. 

Christopher  saw  only  the  tragedy  of  his  appearance. 

Here  was  the  room,  so  familiar  to  him,  of  Mr.  Pom- 
mer's  domestic  pride.  The  gaudy  wall-paper  was 
crowded  out  by  pictures  in  still  gaudier  gilt  frames — 
oleographic  landscapes,  enlarged  portraits  of  Mr.  Pom- 
mer's  father  and  mother,  photographs  of  the  children, 
and  a  large  colored  lithograph  of  William  Gladstone. 
The  mantelpiece  was  loaded  with  china  ornaments 
under  glass  cases.  The  furniture  was  of  imitation 
ebony,  tortuously  carved  and  covered  with  a  green 
plush  which  stuck  to  tweed  trousers  very  unpleasantly. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MR.  POMMER         169 

lere  was  a  piano  in  the  room,  and  a  book-case,  and 
gilt  bird-cage  occupied  by  a  restless  canary,  and  a 
flass  aquarium  in  the  window  with  gold  fish  swimming 
lismally  in  and  out  of  holes  in  a  melancholy  piece  of 
mcrete  which  looked  like  a  piece  of  prehistoric 
rruyere  cheese. 

The  bad  taste  of  this  room  did  not  trouble  Qiris- 
)pher,  because  it  seemed  to  him  a  symbol  of  Pommer's 
Lvish  domesticity,  which  was  now  menaced  by  ruin, 
'he  contents  of  the  room  made  in  his  eyes  a  tragic 
ickground  for  the  tragic  figure  of  the  distracted 
iker,  whose  laborious  life  of  devotion  to  his  children 
ras  now  brought  to  a  critical  stop,  broken  across  the 
Lck,  as  it  were,  and  lying  helpless  in  the  bloody  dust 
irough  which  the  wheels  of  the  chariot  of  war  were 
till  ploughing. 

Before  he  could  speak,  Pommer  broke  out  into  a 

>rrent  of   complaint,   waving  his  arms  about,   and 

tamping  with  his  feet  on  the  floor.     "My  sons  are 

^hting  in  the  British  Army!"  he  cried.     "They  are 

ighting  the  Germans — my  sons,  my  own  sons  who  call 

le  father.    I  have  my  papers.    I  too  am  British.    I 

jcame  British  because  I  thought  Britain  was  a  coun- 

of  justice,  a  liberal  country,  the  champion  of  fair- 

)lay.     I  chose  Britain  for  my  country.     I  married  a 

British  woman.    My  children  are  British.     They  are 

fighting  for  Britain.    And  this  is  what  Britain  does  for 

me  I    Ach,  it  is  no  longer  the  old  Britain.    It  is  as  bad 

as  Germany.     What  would   Gladstone   say  of   this 


170  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

Britain  ?  Where  are  the  Liberals  of  England  ?  Where 
are  the  democrats?  I  am  ruined.  These  swine  have 
ruined  me.  Ach,  you  have  some  frightful  people  in 
England.  Your  poor  people  are  the  most  evil  in  the 
world.  They  are  dirty.  They  are  ignorant.  They  are 
beastly.  Germany  would  be  ashamed  to  have  such  peo- 
ple. You  do  not  find  such  people  in  the  whole  of  Ger- 
many— so  dirty,  so  ignorant,  so  barbarous,  such  sav- 
ages. Pah,  they  make  me  sick,  these  filthy  people  of 
yours.  Look  what  they  have  done?  They  steal  my 
goods,  they  break  my  windows,  they  ruin  my  business. 
Yes,  I  am  ruined — I  who  have  the  papers  of  your 
Government,  I  who  have  sons  fighting  in  the  British 
Army." 

Mrs.  Pommer  endeavored  by  soothing  words  to  stem 
this  torrent  of  complaint,  but  her  effort  was  quite  hope- 
less. Pommer  began  to  walk  about  the  parlor,  growing 
more  and  more  indignant,  flinging  his  arms  about, 
snorting  with  contempt,  snarling  with  rage. 

"It  is  not  only  the  dirty  poor  who  are  vile,"  he  con- 
tinued. "Your  newspapers  are  still  viler.  They  are 
responsible  for  all  this.  They  sneer  at  Germany  about 
the  scrap  of  paper,  but  they  are  tearing  up  the  scrap 
of  paper  which  made  me  a  British  subject.  Hypo- 
crites 1  Liars !  Scoundrels !  Did  not  the  Government 
guarantee  me  all  the  privileges  of  a  British  subject? 
Was  not  that  our  agreement,  as  solemn  as  the  agree- 
ment of  Belgium's  neutrality?  Yes,  and  now  these 
stinking  newspapers  of  yours  are  calling  out,  Intern 


i 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MR.  POMMER         171 


them,  Intern  them,  Intern  the  lot  of  them!  Is  that 
justice?  Is  that  honesty?  Is  that  liberty  and  fair- 
play?  I  am  a  British  subject.  I  pay  my  taxes.  My 
sons  are  British  soldiers.  And  now  they  say  I  am  to 
be  treated  like  a  foreigner,  like  a  traitor.  I  am  not 
to  be  tried  in  a  court  of  law.  I  am  to  be  seized,  carried 
off  without  trial,  and  locked  up  in  a  prison — my  wife 
left  to  starve,  and  my  business  ruined.  But  what  about 
my  nationalization  papers?  Ach,  England  is  just  as 
bad  as  Prussia!  Democracy  is  dead  here.  There  is 
no  free  speech.  There  is  no  liberty.  Despotism  is 
here  just  as  it  is  in  Germany  and  Russia." 

When  Christopher  was  able  to  speak  he  said  to  the 
infuriated  baker,  "No  words  can  exaggerate  the  shame- 
fulness  of  this  attack  upon  your  property.  I  feel  a 
deep  indignation  about  it.  It  fills  me  with  grief  and 
sorrow.  It  is  a  most  cruel,  cowardly,  and  disgraceful 
act.  But  it  is  the  act  of  a  handful  of  people — of  people 
we  should  try  to  be  sorry  for,  their  very  degradation 

tnessing  against  us  for  our  neglect  of  them.  It  is 
not  the  act  of  a  nation.  It  is  not  an  act  of  England. 
England  is  full  of  very  kind  people,  people  of  generous 
instincts,  just-minded,  upright  honorable  people.  Do 
not  lose  your  faith  in  England.  You  know  how  I  hate 
this  war,  and  how  I  believe  that  nothing  but  evil  can 
come  of  it:  but  I  do  not  despair  of  the  human  race 
because  there  are  in  all  countries  people  who  are  kind 
and  fair.    Think  of  the  goodness  in  England  at  this 

oment!    Millions  of  money  are  being  subscribed  to 


172  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

alleviate  the  sufferings  of  war.  People  are  giving  up 
their  houses  and  lands.  Thousands  of  people  are  vol- 
unteering to  work  in  hospitals  without  fee  or  reward. 
The  whole  nation  is  touched  by  the  universal  suffering. 
Workmen  in  the  factories  agree  to  reductions  from 
their  weekly  wages  for  the  Belgians  and  the  Serbians. 
In  every  village  there  are  committees  working  for  the 
wounded.  Ladies  who  never  did  any  manual  labor 
before  are  scrubbing  hospital  floors  and  waiting  like 
servants  on  the  trained  nurses.  Surely  all  this  is  on 
the  side  of  goodness.  Don't  despair  of  England.  See 
your  sufferings  in  a  just  light.  A  few  ignorant  people 
have  done  you  this  injury,  and  are  now  probably 
ashamed  of  their  conduct.  Send  for  the  glazier.  Get 
your  windows  mended.  Open  your  shop.  Show  the 
neighborhood  that  you  trust  its  sense  of  fair-play.  Be- 
lieve me,  you  are  not  ruined.  Courage  will  carry  you 
through." 

Mrs.  Pommer  supported  this  argument,  in  her  rather 
dreary  way,  but  Pommer  stuck  out  for  a  long  time, 
declaring  that  his  custom  was  gone,  that  there  was  no 
justice  in  England,  and  that  he  would  very  soon  find 
himself  marched  off  into  an  internment  camp.  How- 
ever, chiefly  owing  to  the  vigorous  championship  which 
Christopher's  argument  received  from  his  daughter, 
who  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  an  engineer  and  felt 
herself  to  be  not  merely  English  but  an  out-and-out 
Londoner,  Pommer  consented  to  re-open  his  shop  and 
carry  on  business  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  MR.  POMMER         173 

A  few  weeks  afterwards  Jane  reported  to  Chris- 
>her  that  she  had  been  to  see  the  Pommers,  and  that 
ley  were  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  dejection.  No 
irther  attack  had  been  made  upon  the  shop,  but  cus- 
had  departed.  Anonymous  letters,  enclosing  ac- 
mnts  of  German  atrocities  from  the  newspapers,  were 
:eived  by  almost  every  post,  and  insults  of  a  most 
>rrible  kind  were  always  being  chalked  up  on  the 
mtters  at  night.  Mr.  Pommer,  she  reported,  had 
ik  into  a  condition  of  the  utmost  despair. 
On  the  day  when  James  started  for  the  front  with 
division,  news  reached  Pommer  that  he  was  to  be 
interned.  Christopher  had  gone  to  say  good-bye  to 
James,  and  to  sit  with  his  mother  afterwards,  who  was 
quite  broken-down  by  this  departure.  He  heard  noth- 
ing of  the  internment  notice  till  next  day. 

As  soon  as  they  were  able  to  do  so  he  and  Jane  hur- 
ried round  to  the  shop.     They   found  the  windows 
shuttered,  and  a  small  crowd  gathered  before  the  door. 
Pommer  had  destroyed  himself. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  STRATEGIC  ENGAGEMENT 

AN  event  of  some  importance  to  this  history  oc- 
curred soon  after  it  became  apparent  that  the 
Coalition  Government  would  be  obliged  to  enforce 
military  service.  This  event  was  the  marriage  of 
Arthur  Sterling  to  Lady  Louisa  Hubbard,  the  youngest 
and  only  unmarried  daughter  of  old  Lord  Reigate. 

This  sacrament  was  celebrated  a  few  weeks  before 
romantic  ladies  from  America  were  deprived  of  a  well- 
known  and  picturesque  sight  of  fashionable  London, 
namely  the  morning  ride  in  the  Park  of  the  old  earl, 
jogging  along,  with  his  arms  flapping,  and  his  hands, 
in  lemon-colored  gloves,  held  high  against  his  black 
stock.  Many  will  remember  his  little  bobtailed  grey 
with  its  brisk  quick  action  in  walking,  which  always 
suggested  that  it  was  just  on  the  very  point  of  trotting. 
It  was  said  that  nobody  had  ever  seen  it  do  anything 
but  walk. 

Lord  Reigate  at  that  time  was  as  handsome  a  sur- 
vival of  the  old  world  as  any  American  could  hope 
to  see  in  modern  London.  He  still  wore  a  towering 
top  hat  of  the  stove-pipe  variety,  pressed  hard  down 

174 


I 


A  STRATEGIC  ENGAGEMENT  175 


on  his  red  ears,  and  still  sported  trousers  of  a  shep- 
herd's plaid  pattern  strapped  under  sharp-pointed  boots 
of  a  superlative  varnish.  In  spite  of  his  immense  age 
and  the  heavy  cross  of  enforced  abstinence,  his  round 
face  still  preserved  its  richness  of  alcoholic  coloring 
and  its  expression  of  a  jovial  stupidity.  He  looked  as 
incorrigible  as  he  would  have  been  if  age  had  not  pre- 
vented. His  glittering  smile,  his  loud  voice,  and  his 
chuckling  laughter  manifested  no  disposition  on  his 
part  towards  repentance.  He  was  as  vain  of  his  great 
age  as  he  had  been  of  his  great  sins,  and  he  still  be- 
lieved that  all  the  women  who  stared  as  he  rode  by 
were  in  love  with  him. 

This  old  gentleman,  falling  into  his  dotage  after  a 
life  of  great  devotion  to  flesh  of  every  kind,  never 
could  be  persuaded  by  the  members  of  his  family  to 
treat  Arthur  Sterling  with  even  a  show  of  respect.  He 
had  never  liked  him,  and  now  he  hated  him.  He  would 
sit  in  his  big  chair  before  a  roaring  fire  in  the  library, 
his  legs  stretched  out  towards  the  fender,  talking  to 
himself  for  an  hour  together  on  the  subject  of  this 
new  son-in-law. 

K"Damn  the  fellow's  impertinence,"  he  would  say; 
omes  in  here :  talks  to  my  daughter  behind  my  back : 
bamboozles  her:  twists  her  round   his  finger:   and, 

damme,  marries  her —  yes,  by ^marries  her  1    Was 

ever  such  a  thing  as  that  ?    And  then  has  the  imperti- 
nence to  offer  to  Hve  with  me!" 

In  vain  did  his  children  seek  to  convert  their  father 


176  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

to  a  kinder  view  of  Arthur  Sterling.  Nothing  could 
change  him.  His  prejudices  were  of  iron.  He  spoke 
of  him  as  "the  marauding  bridegroom,"  or  "Louisa's 
sorcerer,"  or  "that  fat  fellow  with  the  grin."  He  was 
convinced  that  Sterling  had  married  his  daughter  as 
a  step  to  some  nefarious  scheme  hidden  behind  his 
grinning  mask. 

He  was  not  altogether  wrong. 

Arthur  felt,  when  military  compulsion  loomed  more 
and  more  steadily  on  the  horizon,  that  a  married  man 
would  stand  a  better  chance  of  exemption  than  a  bach- 
elor. He  made  up  his  mind  to  contemplate  marriage. 
At  this  stage  he  considered  marriage  from  another 
point  of  view — the  point  of  view  of  the  social  world. 
There  were  many  very  pretty  women  in  the  beautiful 
world  whom  he  could  have  brought  himself  to  marry, 
but  there  was  considerable  doubt  in  his  mind  whether 
any  of  these  gracious  creatures  could  be  hurried  into 
matrimony  with  him.  He  then  regarded  his  marriage 
from  the  point  of  view  of  political  influence,  thus  nar- 
rowing down  the  field  of  his  operations  to  workable 
dimensions.  A  little  thought  turned  his  affections  to- 
wards Louisa. 

She  was  neither  young  nor  beautiful :  but  she  was  a 
very  sensible,  clear-headed,  and  jolly  person  of  just 
over  thirty,  with  extraordinarily  nice  manners,  and 
something  about  her  which  made  people  say  that  she 
was  as  true  as  steel.  She  dressed  anyhow,  spoke  in  a 
deep  voice,  and  laughed  with  a  real  heartiness.     She 


A  STRATEGIC  ENGAGEMENT  177 

was  a  serious  person  as  well  as  a  jolly  person.  She 
worked  on  committees,  made  speeches  on  social  sub- 
jects, and  read  blue  books.  At  the  same  time  she  rode 
perfectly,  was  not  a  bad  shot,  and  loved  fishing  with  a 
genuine  ardor. 

Arthur  had  always  been  on  terms  of  friendship  with 
this  pleasant  person,  but  until  conscription  came  had 
never  dreamed  of  her  as  a  bride.  Perhaps  nobody  in 
all  London  had  ever  thought  of  Louisa  Hubbard  in 
that  capacity.  What  chiefly  attracted  Arthur  Sterling 
in  Louisa  was  her  political  connections.  Her  brother 
and  brothers-in-law  were  in  the  thick  of  politics:  one 
of  them  a  cabinet  minister,  another  an  ex-minister,  and 
a  third  a  person  of  importance  in  diplomacy.  As  to 
her  cousins  the  decorative  side  of  the  government  of 
the  empire  seemed  to  be  almost  entirely  in  their  hands. 
Arthur  had  long  cultivated  these  people  and  now  cul- 
tivating them  still  more  assiduously  he  began  to  culti- 
vate in  himself  a  higher  seriousness,  a  graver 
patriotism. 

Soon  after  his  engagement  to  Louisa  he  appeared 
at  his  club  wearing  a  badge.  No  one  ever  quite  under- 
stood what  that  badge  signified.  It  evidently  signified 
something  of  a  very  secret  nature.  Sterling  never  said 
what  it  was.  He  spoke  darkly  of  the  Foreign  Office, 
referred  on  occasions  to  the  Ministry  of  Munitions, 
but  never  got  nearer  to  a  definition  of  his  functions 
than  to  speak  of  them  as  "war  work."  Whatever  that 
war  work  was,  it  did  not  prevent  him  from  sitting  for 


178  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

an  hour  or  two  after  his  luncheon  in  the  smoking-room 
of  his  club,  or  from  visiting  the  theatres  with  all  the 
aflPection  and  constancy  of  his  pre-war  days.  Wherever 
he  went  he  wore  his  badge  in  his  button-hole. 

Old  Anthony  Sterling  was  highly  amused  by  this 
marriage,  describing  it  as  a  miracle.  It  was  the  one 
relief  he  experienced  in  his  agony  of  anxiety  at  James's 
presence  in  the  trenches.  He  took  a  great  fancy  to 
Louisa,  but  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  imagine  why 
such  a  sensible  woman  should  have  married  "our 
Corney  Grain."  He  would  sometimes  break  into  a 
little  delighted  laugh,  and  asked  by  his  wife  what  he 
was  thinking  of  would  reply,  ^'Arthur's  sacrifice  of 
himself  on  the  altar  of  patriotism."  He  saw  very  well 
what  was  in  the  mind  of  the  future  Lord  Chancellor. 

"All  I  hope  is,"  he  would  say,  "that  Louisa  will 
make  a  man  of  him.  He's  not  a  bad  fellow.  There's 
the  right  stuff  in  him.  A  strong  woman  might  pull 
him  out  of  his  husk  of  selfishness.    I  hope  she'll  do  it." 

Lord  Reigate  refused  for  some  months  to  meet  any 
of  the  Sterling  family  after  the  wedding.  He  said  that 
he  would  meet  none  of  "that  gang."  Louisa,  however, 
was  so  essential  to  his  happiness,  and  so  patient  and 
tactful  in  her  management  of  him,  that  as  he  sank 
further  and  deeper  into  his  dotage  she  was  able  to 
get  her  way  with  him,  and  very  soon  after  their  honey- 
moon she  and  Arthur  took  up  their  quarters  in  the 
London  house.  By  this  time  the  old  gentleman  was 
jso  far  gone  that  he  quite  forgot  Louisa's  marriage,  and 


A  STRATEGIC  ENGAGEMENT  179 


L,.._ ...„ 

^Bor  a  piano-tuner,  now  for  a  man  come  to  wind  the 

^^ocks,  and  now  for  his  valet,  would  either  swear  at 

him  or  give  him  some  absurd  instructions  which  no 

gentleman  engaged  in  important  war  work  could  have 

thought  of  obeying. 

The  one  member  of  the  Sterling  family  whom  this 

Krreck  of  a  tough  old  sinner  ever  countenanced,  was 
Angton,  now  a  brigadier-general.  He  never  remem- 
ered  Langton's  name,  but  when  that  fine  soldier  was 
ome  on  leave  and  came  to  see  him,  old  Reigate  would 
sparkle  up  into  an  amazing  vivacity  and  talk  about  the 
war  with  all  the  conviction  of  a  military  critic  in  the 
newspapers. 
I^B  His  great  dictum  was,  "Kitchener's  no  good.  He's 
an  Oriental.  He's  fat,  slow,  lazy  —  a  stupid  fellow, 
uch  over-rated."  He  would  then  suggest  ideas :  "The 
n  you  want  out  there  is  Buller,  and  the  man  you 
ant  here  at  the  War  Office  is  Smith,  the  newspaper 
n — a  great  organizer,  a  man  of  business,  started  life 
ithout  a  bob,  made  a  million,  got  into  parliament,  and 
w  look  where  he  is !  These  Germans  will  never  be 
at  by  gentlemen.  They  don't  understand  gentlemen, 
hat  we've  got  to  do  is  to  put  ourselves  into  the  hands 
f  tradesmen.  Those  are  the  chaps  to  beat  the  Boche, 
desmen.  Asquith's  no  good.  I'd  impeach  him  for 
lot  preparing  for  this  war.  Gladstone's  a  windbag, 
always  said  he  was.  I  told  the  Queen  so,  and  she 
eed  with  me.     Smith's  the  man,  Smith  and  Joe 


i8o  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

Chamberlain.  Damn  the  lawyers !  I  never  trusted  one 
of  them,  and  I  don't  mean  to  begin  now." 

Long  after  the  lamented  death  of  Lord  Kitchener 
this  old  gentleman  was  abusing  him  for  a  bungler  and 
declaring  that  we  should  never  win  the  war  while  he 
was  chasing  De  Wet  in  kid  gloves.  "What  we  want," 
he  used  to  say,  "is  national  service  and  a  thumping 
tariff  to  keep  the  Germans  out." 

When  at  last  conscription  came,  Arthur  Sterling  was 
so  completely  imbedded  in  war  work  that  the  law  never 
thought  of  disturbing  him.  As  for  Lord  Reigate  he 
had  forgotten  the  war  and  was  rattling  away  about 
fox-hunting,  Connie  Gilchrist,  Sylvia  Grey,  and  some 
old  crony  of  his  to  whom  he  always  referred,  chuckling 
and  dribbling,  as  "that  wicked  little  devil  Dickey  Dead- 
eye."    No  one  ever  knew  who  it  was. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  MADNESS  OF  CHRISTOPHER 

IN  the  mind  of  Christopher,  laboring  among  the 
unhappy  and  oppressed  in  the  Borough,  this 
threat  of  conscription  produced  a  very  different  effect 
from  that  which  governed  the  conduct  of  his  brother 
Arthur. 

To  Christopher,  cherishing  in  the  midst  of  over- 
whelming sordidness  his  dream  of  heaven  on  earth, 
and  holding  quietly  fast  at  the  very  center  of  uncom- 
promising materialism  to  his  conviction  of  a  spiritual 
reality,  this  policy  of  compulsion  seemed  like  a  dagger 
^mt  the  heart  of  humanity. 
^B  If  England,  he  argued,  resorted  to  conscription 
^Krussian  autocracy  could  boast  of  a  triumph  over  the 
^Boremost  apostle  of  democracy.  Human  progress  was 
^^^Iready  checked  by  this  terrible  war,  but  if  England 
submitted  to  militarism  that  progress  would  be  hurled 
ick  into  the  night  and  darkness  of  the  world.  So 
eply  was  he  convinced  of  this,  so  horrible  to  him 
•peared  the  degradation  of  forced  military  service, 
,t  he  abandoned  his  seclusion,  attached  himself  to 
LC  No-Conscription  Fellowship,  and  became  one  of 

i8i 


i82  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

its  principal  speakers  at  public  meetings.  In  this  cru- 
sade he  seemed  to  lose  the  modesty  of  his  shrinking 
character,  and  to  become  a  man  so  enthusiastic  for  a 
cause  that  he  could  transcend  his  own  nature. 

Mankind,  it  has  been  said  by  one  of  the  most  able 
of  English  philosophers,  may  be  divided  into  two 
classes — those  capable  of  belief  in  something  (no  mat- 
ter what)  and  those  incapable  of  all  belief.  *'It  is  to 
be  feared,"  he  says,  "that  the  latter  are  much  the  larger 
class,  at  any  rate  among  politicians.  To  them  the  man 
who  has  a  faith  is  unintelligible.  They  will  assume 
that  he  is  in  the  pay  of  some  sinister  interest ;  that  he 
is  actuated  by  love  of  notoriety ;  or  that  he  is  endeavor- 
ing to  acquire  a  following  whom  he  may  sell  for  a  price 
when  his  career  is  more  advanced.  If  all  these  ex- 
planations fail,  they  shrug  their  shoulders  and  decide 
that  he  is  mad.  They  forget  that  'madmen'  have  done 
all  the  most  notable  work  in  the  world :  they  have  been 
the  religious  leaders,  the  pioneers  in  science  and  art, 
even  the  inventors  of  the  master  ideas  of  politics." 

By  the  majority  of  his  world  Christopher  was  pro- 
nounced mad.  These  people,  incapable  of  belief  in 
anything  at  all,  could  not  understand  the  logical  effects 
of  belief  in  a  mind  supremely  honest,  and  in  a  heart 
passionately  sincere.  They  expected  people  who  pro- 
fessed belief  in  religicn  to  behave  exactly  like  those 
who  did  not  believe  in  religion.  In  the  same  way,  they 
expected  those  who  professed  faith  in  the  principles 
of  democracy,  even  to  the  point  of  expressing  sym- 


THE  MADNESS  OF  CHRISTOPHER       183 

pathy  with  the  moral  ideas  of  socialism,  to  order  their 
lives  exactly  as  members  of  the  Primrose  League,  the 
Jockey  Club,  or  the  House  of  Lords  ordered  theirs.  In 
the  defence  of  these  people  it  may  be  said  that  the 
Christians  and  democrats  of  their  particular  world 
never  gave  them  any  reason  for  doubting  the  logic  of 
this  expectation.  It  was  quite  impossible  in  this  social 
world  to  distinguish  a  Christian  from  an  atheist,  or  a 
liberal  from  an  absolute  tory. 

Christopher  was  pronounced  mad.  Mrs.  Fanning 
laid  the  blame  upon  his  mother.  Violet,  a  much- 
photographed  war-widow,  declared  it  was  the  fault  of 
his  wife.  Other  people  said  it  was  due  to  the  influence 
of  the  fanatic  Stephen  Hobhouse ;  others  attributed  the 
fatal  influence  to  Tolstoy;  others  said  it  came  from 
overstudy ;  and  others  again  declared  that  he  had  been 
"bitten  by  Fabianism"  while  he  was  at  Balliol.  No 
one,  especially  among  the  religious,  ascribed  the  mad- 
less  of  Christopher  Sterling  to  the  founder  of  the 

iristian  religion.     The  one  point  on  which  they  all 

-eed  was  that  Christopher  had  lost  his  wits. 

To  General  Langton  Sterling,  whose  breast  was  now 
•illiant  with  many  ribbons,  British,  French,  Italian, 

id  Russian  ribbons,  and  who  was  becoming  just  at 
this  time  something  of  a  national  hero,  Christopher's 
public  appearances  as  an  opponent  of  conscription  ap- 
peared to  be  both  deplorable  and  reprehensible.  He 
wrote  home  on  the  subject,  using  the  language  of  re- 
traint,  but  expressing  himself  with  great  good  sense 


i84  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

and  a  very  impressive  firmness.  He  was  pained  be- 
yond measure.  He  told  his  parents  that  conscription 
was  vitally  essential.  He  said  that  a  disaster  of  the 
greatest  magnitude  would  befall  the  allied  armies  if 
Britain  weakened  in  her  efforts.  He  begged  them  to 
see  Christopher  and  try  to  convert  him  to  the  view 
that  this  was  a  war  of  Christendom  against  paganism, 
of  light  against  darkness,  of  God  against  Satan,  a  war 
in  which  every  man  who  confessed  the  name  of  Christ 
should  go  forth  with  an  unconquerable  soul  against  the 
legions  of  hell. 

Arthur  Sterhng,  of  course,  was  simply  furious.  He 
said  that  Christopher  was  bringing  disgrace  upon  the 
family,  and  making  the  name  of  Sterling  ridiculous. 
He  sat  down  and  wrote  Christopher  an  indignant  let- 
ter, a  letter  of  the  most  scathing  sarcasm,  every  phrase 
calculated  to  wound,  every  argument  bitter  with  con- 
tempt, a  letter  which  not  only  made  mincemeat  of  the 
pacifist  thesis  but  which,  with  a  quite  brutal  frankness, 
accused  Christopher  of  cowardice. 

James,  to  whom  a  commission  had  just  been  given, 
and  who  was  suffering  almost  intolerable  anguish  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  dreadful  slaughter,  yet  holding 
himself  outwardly  with  a  perfectly  magnificent  valor, 
contented  himself  with  trying  to  understand  Chris- 
topher's position.  He  thought  that  his  brother  was 
wrong,  but  did  not  abuse  him. 

"What  we  have  got  to  do,"  he  wrote  home  to 
his  mother,  "is  not  to  judge  Christopher,  but  to  see 


THE  MADNESS  OF  CHRISTOPHER       185 


I^Bthat  our  war  aims  are  identical  with  his  peace  aims." 

He  saw  that  the  ideal  to  which  Christopher  was 
straining  with  all  the  strength  of  his  soul  was  the  same 
ideal  for  which  the  best  youth  of  Britain  believed  itself 
to  be  fighting  in  the  midst  of  violent  death.  He  told 
himself  that  Christopher  represented  Christ  more  faith- 
fully than  he  did,  that  he  had  made  the  great  sacrifice, 
■  that  he  was  in  absolute  truth  a  disciple  of  love,  and 
that  he  saw  with  larger  and  other  eyes  than  his  the 
great  vision  of  humanity's  future ;  but  he  did  not  yield 
an  inch  in  his  conviction  that  to  fight  the  German  in 
the  name  of  England,  if  not  the  name  of  Christ,  was 
the  most  righteous  duty  of  every  man  who  loved  that 
name  even  as  he  loved  his  mother  and  his  own  honor. 

The  letters  which  they  received  from  Langton  and 
James  were  very  often  discussed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Sterling. 

Old  Mr.  Sterling  greatly  disliked  the  publicity  which 
newspapers  were  giving  to  the  proceedings  of  Chris- 
topher. Every  meeting  Christopher  attempted  to  ad- 
dress, which  was  broken  up  by  an  organized  hostile 
crowd,  furnished  certain  newspapers  with  the  excuse 
for  denouncing  him  as  a  traitor.  Old  Mr.  Sterling 
hated  all  this.  It  added  a  great  deal  of  distress  to  the 
anxiety  preying  upon  his  mind  as  to  the  safety  of 
James.  He  grew  much  more  silent,  aged  with  a  notice- 
able swiftness,  and  began  to  suffer  in  his  health. 

Mrs.  Sterling  hated  Christopher's  propaganda,  and 
could  not  understand  it.    Her  vigorous  mind  saw  very 


i86  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

clearly  that  conscription  was  essential.  She  disliked 
the  principle  of  conscription,  as  much  as  she  disliked 
living  under  the  ignominy  of  the  Defence  of  the  Realm 
Act.  But  she  saw  the  vital  difference  between  a  meas- 
ure of  conscription  imposed  by  an  autocracy  on  a  ser- 
vile people,  and  conscription  freely  adopted  by  an 
enfranchised  democracy  in  its  own  defence. 

"I  cannot  understand  what  has  happened  to  Chris- 
topher's reasoning  powers,"  she  said  on  one  occasion. 
"He  used  to  be  so  logical.  My  one  anxiety  for  him 
used  to  be  that  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  any 
line  of  action  because  he  was  so  caught  by  the  two 
sides  of  every  question.  He  was  the  last  person  in  the 
world,  I  should  have  said,  to  become  a  faddist." 

Mr.  Sterling  replied :  "There  was  a  phrase  in  James's 
last  letter  which  struck  me  a  good  deal.  He  said  that 
Christopher  had  got  the  logic  of  Jesus  but  not  his 
feeling.  Don't  you  think  that  that  is  what  is  the  matter 
with  him?  The  dear  boy  has  thought  out  his  religion 
as  if  it  were  a  problem  in  Euclid.  He  has  not  pro- 
ceeded, as  James  has  proceeded,  to  feel  it  as  a  poem. 
What  a  disaster  it  is !  What  a  thousand  pities !  Dear 
me,  dear  me,  to  think  that  any  son  of  mine  should  be 
a  subject  of  obloquy  in  the  newspapers." 

"That  doesn't  trouble  me,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling. 
"These  same  newspapers  were  denouncing  Mr.  Lloyd 
George  much  more  violently  a  few  days  ago.  What 
troubles  me  is  that  he  should  be  wrong." 

"Yes,  of  course,  of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Sterling, 


THE  MADNESS  OF  CHRISTOt^HER       187 

"that's  the  worst  thing  of   all:   that  he   should  be 
wrong." 

"And  what  troubles  me  even  more,"  she  went  on, 
"is  the  thought  of  what  will  happen  to  him  when  this 
act  is  passed." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"He'll  defy  it;  he'll  refuse  to  obey  it." 

"But,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  that's  impossible.  You 
can't  disobey  an  act  of  Parliament.  You  may  oppose 
a  bill  while  it's  in  the  House  of  Commons,  but  you 
must  submit  to  an  act  of  Parliament.  Why,  dear  me, 
that's  foundational  to  democratic  government." 

"Remember  the  suffragettes  1" 

"But,  good  heavens,  Elizabeth,  you  don't  mean  to 
tell  me  that  Christopher  will  descend  to  such  monstrous 
behavior  as  that!  Why,  this  is  ten  thousand  times 
worse  than  anything  I  had  imagined.  They'll  arrest 
him.    They'll  lock  him  up.    He'll  be  put  in  prison." 

"Yes,  he'll  certainly  go  to  prison." 

"Oh,  dear,  but  this  is  horrible." 

"Christopher  may  be  wrong,  but  he  isn't  a  coward. 
He's  one  of  God's  fools;  one  of  those  men  who  will 
suffer  anything  for  their  faith." 

"But  to  go  to  prison " 

f    "That  is  what  troubles  me  more  than  anything  else ; 
for  I  am  sure  it  will  kill  him." 

"Send  for  him,  send  for  him,  Elizabeth.  I  must 
talk  to  him.  This  must  be  stopped.  Send  for  him  at 
once.    I'll  go  down  on  my  knees  to  him.    I'll  implore 


i88  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

him  not  to  do  this  thing.  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  it. 
Ring  the  bell,  and  we'll  send  a  telegram  at  once.  He 
must  come  here :  he  really  must." 

Mrs.  Sterling  rang  the  bell,  while  her  husband  wrote 
out  a  telegram  to  Christopher  asking  him  to  come  im- 
mediately. But  when  the  message  had  been  dispatched 
she  warned  her  husband  that  even  if  he  went  down 
on  his  knees  to  Christopher,  Christopher  would  keep 
on  his  way. 

The  conversation  between  father  and  son  was  of  a 
most  moving  nature.  It  occurred  late  at  night,  for 
Christopher  did  nOt  receive  the  telegram  till  the  even- 
ing, on  his  return  from  work  for  the  Emergency  Com- 
mittee. He  feared  that  his  mother  had  heard  ill  news 
of  James,  and  in  consequence  he  arrived  at  the  house 
greatly  shaken,  and  utterly  unprepared  for  any  attack 
upon  his  faith.  The  servant  informed  him  that  his 
father  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  library — a  room  on 
the  ground  floor. 

Mr.  Sterling  began,  very  affectionately,  by  deprecat- 
ing Christopher's  present  action  in  opposing  conscrip- 
tion. He  then  proceeded  to  point  out  that  it  was  the 
duty  of  every  just  man  in  a  democratic  state  to  obey 
without  question  the  decisions  of  Parliament.  From 
this,  rather  nervously,  he  went  to  the  question  of  Chris- 
topher's future  position  when  the  act  making  military 
service  compulsory  received  the  Royal  assent. 

"I  hope,"  he  said,  "that  you  will  set  a  good  example 
to  the  rest  of  the  nation.    I  hope,  my  dear  boy,  that 


THE  MADNESS  OF  CHRISTOPHER       189 

you  will  not  allow  personal  feelings  to  prevent  you 
from  giving  a  most  loyal  obedience  to  your  country's 
command,  however  much  you  disapprove  of  it.  You 
are  within  your  rights  at  present :  I  perfectly  recognize 
that:  I  deplore  your  opposition  to  this  bill,  but  I  see 
that  it  is  constitutional :  you  have  a  perfect  right,  how- 
ever wrong  most  of  us  think  you  may  be,  to  oppose 
the  passing  of  this  measure ;  but  once  passed,  Christo- 
pher, once  passed,  it  is  your  bounden  duty  to  obey  it." 

Christopher  replied  that  in  his  opinion  it  was  the 
duty  of  a  citizen  to  obey  every  act  of  Parliament,  how- 
ever disagreeable  it  might  be,  except  in  such  instances 
as  those  where  the  decisions  of  Parliament  were  flag- 
rant violations  of  the  citizen's  inherent  right  and  duty 
to  obey  his  conscience. 

His  father  challenged  this  doctrine.  He  said  that 
the  term  conscience  might  very  easily  become  a 
synonym  for  prejudices  which  were  detrimental  to  the 
peaceful  evolution  of  a  free  society.  "This  very  war," 
he  said,  "with  all  its  horrors  and  ruin,  was  brought 
about  to  a  very  considerable  extent  by  just  such  a 
principle  as  you  enunciate.  It  is  perfectly  certain  in 
my  judgment  that  Germany  would  never  have  taken 
the  immense  hazard  of  war  if  she  had  been  unequiv- 
ocally certain  that  we  should  intervene.  What  made 
our  intervention  seem  to  her  uncertain,  improbable, 
indeed  almost  impossible,  was  the  mutinous  condition 
of  Ireland.  And  what  had  brought  Ireland  to  that 
menacing  condition,  but  the  action  of  Sir  Edward  Car- 


1 


190  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

son  and  the  minority  of  northeast  Ulster  in  threatening 
to  withstand  an  act  of  Parliament?  You  cannot  have 
disobedience  to  an  act  of  Parliament  in  a  democratic 
country.  It  cannot  be  tolerated.  The  choice  for  society 
is  between  an  autocratic  form  of  government  in  which 
obedience  is  enforced,  and  a  democratic  form  of  gov- 
ernment in  which  obedience  is  rendered.  Between 
these  two  there  is  nothing  but  anarchy." 

Christopher's  answer  was  that  there  is  a  higher  law 
than  State  law,  and  that  the  citizen  who  acknowledges 
God  as  the  law  of  his  conscience  cannot  possibly  render 
obedience  to  a  State  law  which  runs  counter  to  a  man- 
ifest law  of  God. 

"Then  do  you  think,"  demanded  his  father,  raising 
his  eyebrows,  and  utterly  surprised  by  such  a  state- 
ment, "that  Sir  Edward  Carson  was  justified  in  arming 
the  Unionists  of  Ulster?" 

"Certainly  not." 

Mr.  Ste|;ling's  face  cleared.  "Ah,  I  didn't  think  you 
would.  But,  Christopher,  many  Ulstermen  based  their 
resistence  to  the  Home  Rule  act  on  religious  grounds !" 

"With  rifles  in  their  hands  ?"  asked  Christopher,  he 
in  his  turn  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"But " 

Mr.  Sterling  saw  what  he  meant.  "You  mean  that 
resistance  to  an  act  of  Parliament  should  be  passive?" 
he  inquired. 

"Of  course.  All  violence  is  opposed  to  the  religious 
law." 


THE  MADNESS  OF  CHRISTOPHER       191 

"Then  you  intend  passively  to  resist  an  act  making 
military  service  compulsory?" 

"Yes." 

"I  beg  you  not  to." 

"In  my  case  there  will  probably  be  no  need  to  resist," 
replied  Christopher ;  "for  I  am  a  Quaker.  The  Gov- 
ernment has  always  recognized  the  special  position  of 
Quakers  in  this  matter." 

Mr.  Sterling  felt  a  great  weight  lift  from  his  heart. 
He  could  have  laughed,  he  was  so  relieved,  so  happy. 

"Ah !"  he  cried,  "your  mother  and  I  never  thought 
of  that." 

"But,"  continued  Christopher,  "I  shall  advise  all 
others  who  object  to  military  service  on  moral  and 
political  grounds  to  resist  the  act.  I  am  bound  to 
do  so." 

"I  implore  you  to  do  no  such  thing." 

"Why?" 

"Because  it  would  be  wrong  and  hazardous.  It 
would  get  you  into  trouble.  Your  mother  and  I  are 
both  convinced  that  you  are  wrong.  It  will  distress 
us  beyond  measure  if  you  do  any  such  thing.  We  both 
feel  that  our  load  is — ^heavy  enough,  heavy  enough." 

His  lips  twitched,  and  he  fumbled  hastily  for  his 
handkerchief,  getting  up  from  his  chair  and  walking 
away. 

Christopher  was  moved.  "How  can  I  disobey  so 
kind  a  father,"  he  asked  gravely,  "and  so  sweet  a 
mother?     I  have  known  nothing  at  your  hands  but 


192  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

utmost  kindness ;  all  the  days  of  childhood  and  youth 
were  made  beautiful  by  your  love;  and  all  the  impulses 
of  my  spirit  which  seem  to  carry  me  nearest  to  God 
I  received  from  you  and  from  my  mother — for  the 
foundation  of  everything  in  the  home  was  love." 

**Ah!"  cried  Mr.  Sterling,  standing  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, "I  look  back  upon  those  days,  those  golden  days, 
as  our  first  parents  must  have  looked  back  to  the 
Garden  of  Eden.  What  good  times  they  were !  How 
happy  we  all  were  together — you  boys  and  Sibyl,  your 
mother  and  I.  I  don't  know  what  God  can  do  for  us 
in  the  next  world  better  than  that." 

He  came  back  to  Christopher,  putting  away  his 
handkerchief,  though  his  eyes  were  still  wet,  and  shak- 
ing his  head  rather  sadly,  a  sorrowful  smile  on  his  lips, 
said  as  if  playfully,  "You  were  the  first,  you  remember, 
to  break  away.  The  sunlight  seemed  to  go  out  of  the 
house  and  out  of  the  garden  when  you  went  off  on  that 
tramp  abroad.    It  was  never  the  same  again." 

Christopher  could  hardly  trust  himself  to  speak.  He 
nodded  his  head  and  admitted,  "Yes,  I  was  the  first 
to  go." 

His  father  said  to  him,  "Come  back  to  us  now,  you 
and  Jane;  we  are  very  lonely  together,  your  mother 
and  I.  Why  not  come  and  take  care  of  us  till  the 
war  is  over?" 

Christopher  looked  into  his  father's  eyes,  which  were 
still  wet  with  tears,  and  felt  his  heart  pierced  and 
pierced  again,  reading  there  the  loneliness,  the  suffer- 


I 


THE  MADNESS  OF  CHRISTOPHER       193 


ing,  and  the  hunger  of  a  spirit  whose  moral  nobility- 
shone  clear  through  all  the  weakness  of  its  human 
affections. 

"My  dearest  father,"  he  replied,  "far  more  easily 
could  I  disobey  the  most  serious  commands  of  the 
State  than  the  very  least  of  your  wishes;  believe  me, 
that  comes  from  my  heart :  but  I  have  surrendered  my 
will  to  God,  and  I  must  needs  go  where  He  orders. 
Don't  ask  me,  if  you  can  help  it,  to  look  back.  One 
day,  I  am  sure  of  it,  all  will  be  made  plain  to  us,  and 
our  happiness  will  be  greater  than  anything  we  can 
imagine ;  but  here  in  this  world  there  must  be  partings 
and  sufferings,  for  it  is  a  world,  isn't  it,  which  refuses 
to  do  God's  will?" 

Mr.  Sterling  remained  standing  before  his  son.  His 
face  was  as  if  frozen  into  a  deathlike  solemnity.  He 
was  thinking  of  the  agony  and  bloody  sweat  of  the 
world,  and  asking  himself  how  he  could  dream  of 
shirking  the  full  weight  of  his  share  in  this  bitter 
anguish  of  all  mankind.  The  whole  world  was  being 
mangled  in  the  fell  clutches  of  war,  and  he  was  think- 
ing of  his  individual  grief.  What  a  coward  he  had 
been !  How  weakly  he  had  shown  himself  in  the  eyes 
of  this  dear  son  of  his,  who,  however  misguided,  was 
a  noble  fellow  and  infinitely  dear  to  him.  He  felt  him- 
self shaken  from  head  to  foot,  and  shrunken  to  little- 
ness. By  a  great  effort  of  will  he  recovered  himself 
and  reached  up  to  the  full  stature  of  his  manhood. 

"That  is  what  we  must  hope,"  he  said,  slowly  and 


194"  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

gravely,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  his  whole  face  expressing 
doubt  and  despair;  "some  day  it  may  be  made  plain 
to  us :  some  day  perhaps  we  shall  understand :  but  now, 
in  this  day,  the  burden.  Yes,  you  are  right.  You  are 
perfectly  right,  my  dear  fellow.  The  only  thing  for  us 
to  do  is  to  bear  the  burden  as  bravely  as  we  can.  Each 
man  must  bear  his  own  burden." 

Christopher  stood  up  and  embraced  his  father. 

As  they  hung  together  for  a  moment,  the  old  man 
and  the  young,  father  and  son  united  in  the  bonds  of 
love,  Christopher  said,  "I  think  it  makes  the  burden 
easier  if  we  try  to  bear  one  another's  burdens  as  well." 

Mr.  Sterling,  shaking  off  his  sorrow,  glad  and  happy 
to  have  his  arms  round  his  boy,  kissed  him  affection- 
ately on  both  cheeks.  Then,  smiling  bravely,  he  said 
in  a  cheerful  voice,  "Yes,  that's  the  only  religion  I 
understand,  and  I  shall  try  to  follow  it  more  faithfully 
in  the  future — in  the  few  years  that  are  left.  WeVe 
got  to  be  less  selfish,  to  think  more  of  other  people's 
sorrows ;  yes,  that's  the  moral  law.  And  now,  my  dear 
fellow,  come  upstairs  for  a  moment  to  see  your  mother. 
Don't  be  afraid.  You  shan't  be  bothered.  I'll  tell  her 
to  keep  off  controversial  matters." 

They  went  upstairs  to  the  drawing-room  arm  in  arm, 
and  Mr.  Sterling  said  to  Christopher,  hugging  his  son's 
arm  to  him,  "Isn't  this  jolly?    Like  old  times,  isn't  it?" 

He  seemed  to  be  perfectly  happy. 


CHAPTER  IX 


PLAIN    CLOTHES 


44 T  TOW  sweet!  how  sweet!  Just  listen  to  it!" 
STL  This  from  Christopher,  who  stood  at  the  open 
window  of  the  kitchen-parlor,  one  hand  in  a  shoe,  the 
other  hand,  which  held  a  boot-brush,  lifted  to  attract 
his  wife's  attention.  She  paused  in  her  stirring  of  the 
porridge,  turned  her  head  to  him,  and  listened — won- 
dering what  he  could  mean.  Into  the  room,  sounding 
above  the  traffic's  rumble,  came  the  singing  of  a  canary. 
It  floated  up  to  the  window-sill,  trill  after  trill,  and 
there  seemed  to  merge  itself  into  the  gladness  of  the 
sunshine  which  streamed  into  the  little  kitchen. 

Jane  nodded  her  head,  making  Christopher  smile, 
and  then  they  stood  listening  and  smiling  while  the 
canary  sang  to  them  from  a  window  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  court. 

Then  Jane  said  to  him,  whispering  the  words:  "I 
wish  you  always  looked  like  that." 

"How  do  I  look?"  he  asked,  rather  listening  to  the 
bird  than  listening  for  her  answer. 

"Ten  years  younger,"  she  replied. 

At  that  he  seemed  to  come  out  of  his  entrancement, 

195 


196  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

and  went  on  with  his  polishing.  But  as  he  polished  he 
looked  out  of  the  window  every  now  and  then  at  the 
little  speck  of  yellow  in  a  cage  down  below.  *T  know 
why  I  look  younger,"  he  said,  speaking  aloud.  "The 
song  of  a  bird  always  makes  me  think  of  the  country, 
and  thought  of  the  country  always  makes  me  happy." 

When  they  were  sitting  at  their  breakfast  Jane  said 
to  him,  ''Don't  you  think,  if  we  worked  very  hard  for 
the  next  week,  that  we  might  get  three  or  four  days 
together  in  the  country  before  they  come  to  take  you?" 

"Wouldn't  that  be  splendid?"  he  exclaimed,  looking 
up  quickly.  "Yes,  we  can  easily  do  it.  Fm  nearly  dead 
now,  but  a  spurt  won't  hurt  in  the  least  with  the 
thought  of  the  country  to  keep  me  going.    Let's  do  it." 

That  phrase  of  Jane's  "before  they  come  to  take 
you"  referred  to  Christopher's  expected  arrest  at  the 
hands  of  the  police.  This  arrest  might  come  fairly 
soon,  but  his  calling-up  notice  had  not  yet  arrived,  and 
so  far  as  they  had  been  able  to  ascertain  his  arrest  was 
not  likely  to  happen  for  perhaps  a  fortnight  or  three 
weeks. 

Christopher  was  now  deemed  by  the  military  author- 
ities to  be  a  deserter.  His  indignation  at  what  he  con- 
sidered to  be  the  perjury  of  the  Government  had  made 
him  refuse  medical  examination  before  the  tribunal 
which  examined  him — a  tribunal  which  was  supposed 
to  administer  justly  the  conscientious  clauses  of  the 
Military  Service  Act.  In  getting  this  revolutionary  act 
through   Parliament  the   Government  had   solemnly 


PLAIN  CLOTHES  197 

promised  the  most  sympathetic  treatment  for  all  men 
called  up  under  that  act  who  entertained  genuine  re- 
ligious objections  against  war.  So  emphatic  had  been 
these  promises  that  Christopher  used  to  smile  at  his 
wife's  fears  for  his  safety.  "Why,"  he  said  to  her, 
"you  are  trying  to  make  out  that  a  British  Government 
is  as  bad  and  dishonest  as  a  German  Government." 

He  would  quote  to  her  the  words  of  the  Prime  Min- 
ister: "All  men  whose  objections  to  active  military 
service  are  founded  on  honest  convictions  ought  to  be 
able,  and  will  be  able,  to  avail  themselves  of  the  ex- 
emptions which  Parliament  has  provided.' "  He 
quoted,  too,  the  emphatic  words  of  Lord  Kitchener 
in  the  House  of  Lords,  "  The  genuine  conscientious 
objectors  will  find  themselves  under  the  civil  power.' " 
And  as  if  this  were  not  enough  to  allay  Jane's  mis- 
giving, he  would  proceed  to  the  words  of  a  foremost 
minister  in  this  matter,  the  President  of  the  Local 
Government  Board,  "  'Absolute  exemption  can  be 
granted  in  all  cases  where  conditional  exemption  will 
not  adequately  meet  the  case.' " 

When  it  was  found  that  these  promises  and  as- 
surances were  treated  as  scraps  of  paper,  the  indigna- 
tion of  Christopher  was  as  vigorous  as  his  amazement. 
For  a  few  days  he  was  staggered  beyond  measure. 
Men  whom  he  knew  for  the  most  noble  of  fellow- 
workers,  Quakers  and  Tolstoyans,  were  subjected  to 
insult  and  contempt  by  the  tribunals,  their  claims  were 
dismissed,  their  arguments  were  mocked,   and  they 


■ 


198  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

found  themselves  soon  afterwards  in  the  hands  of  th< 
police.  When  his  indignation  rose  up  and  dispersec 
this  first  amazement,  he  said  to  his  wife,  "I  will  nevei 
let  these  tribunals  excuse  me  on  grounds  of  health 
The  Government  has  betrayed  its  trust.  The  act  is  i 
scandal.  I  will  make  my  claim  on  the  grounds  of  con 
science,  and  only  on  that.'*    This  claim  was  dismissed 

It  has  never  been  explained  how  this  manifest  law- 
breaking  on  the  part  of  the  tribunal  was  permitted 
Christopher  was  a  Quaker,  and  a  Quaker  preacher 
before  the  war  began.  His  opposition  to  military  ser 
vice  was  not  based  on  political  or  on  moral  grounds 
but  purely  on  the  historic  religious  grounds  whicl 
Quakers  have  always  taken  on  the  question  of  war 
Nevertheless  Christopher's  appeal  for  exemption,  lik( 
many  another  Quaker's  appeal,  was  disallowed  anc 
disallowed  with  clumsy  sarcasm  and  the  most  opei 
contempt. 

Jane  and  he  returned  to  their  workman's  flat  tha 
day  more  full  of  fight  than  a  Quaker  would  say  wa; 
good  for  their  souls. 

These  two  people  were  living  a  life,  it  must  be  under 
stood,  which  was  as  different  as  possible  from  the  lif< 
of  the  vast  majority  of  their  fellow-citizens.  James 
fighting  in  France,  was  perhaps  the  only  person  con 
cerned  who  saw  the  great  importance  of  this  fact 
"What  is  the  use,"  he  wrote  home  to  his  mother,  "o: 
trying  to  See  the  question  of  military  service  as  Chris 
topher  sees  it  ?    How  can  we  do  that,  when  we  do  no 


PLAIN  CLOTHES  199 

stand  at  the  angle  from  which  he  and  Jane  see  the 
whole  business  of  Hfe?" 

This  angle  was  the  angle  of  a  complete,  literal,  and 
most  childlike  faith.  Not  only  did  they  believe  in  God, 
but  they  believed  in  the  providence  of  God.  Not  only 
did  they  believe  in  Christ,  but  they  believed  in  the 
mystical  indwelling  of  His  presence  in  their  hearts. 
Every  morning  of  their  lives  they  read  the  Bible, 
prayed  together,  and  remained  silent  for  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Holy  Spirit.  They  considered  that  the 
most  fateful  business  of  the  day  was  contact  with  other 
fellow-creatures,  whom  they  must  either  help  or  harm 
by  their  contact :  and  this  contact  covered  the  stranger 
whom  they  passed  in  the  street,  or  the  person  opposite 
to  whom  they  might  sit  in  train  or  tram,  for  they  be- 
lieved with  Dostoevsky  that  a  scowling  face  may  dam- 
age almost  permanently  the  soul  of  a  child  who  looks 
up  from  its  play  and  shrinks  from  that  frown  of  anger. 

Such  being  their  faith  they  prepared  themselves  most 
solemnly  for  the  commerce  of  every  day,  emptying 
their  hearts  of  all  selfishness,  meditating  upon  the  in- 
finite love  of  a  heavenly  Father,  repeating  to  them- 
selves the  teachings  of  their  Saviour.  Moreover,  they 
exercised  the  most  scrupulous  economy  in  what  they 
ate  and  drank,  denied  themselves  all  comforts,  and  at 
the  end  of  every  week  gave  away  to  the  sorrowful  and 
suffering  the  money  they  had  been  able  to  save  by  their 
abstinence. 

People  who  live  in  this  unusual  fashion  cannot,  as 


200  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

James  argued,  see  life  as  those  who  live  in  the  usual 
fashion.  Everything  is  seen,  not  only  in  a  different 
perspective,  but  in  a  different  light.  The  pomps  of 
the  world,  to  those  who  deeply  know  and  share  the 
miseries  of  the  multitude,  appear  neither  as  childish- 
ness nor  as  an  affront  to  good  taste,  but  as  an  incon- 
ceivably bold  rejection  of  religion.  And  the  miseries 
of  the  multitude  do  not  appear  to  such  people  as  the 
unavoidable  penalties  of  any  particular  industrial  sys- 
tem, but  as  an  infinitely  convincing  witness  to  the 
atheistic  basis  of  society. 

As  for  war,  to  those  who  truly  believe  that  God  is 
the  Father  of  the  whole  family  of  mankind — and  that 
Christ  unfolded  the  one  secret  of  the  world's  deliver- 
ance from  evil  when  he  said  that  we  were  to  love  our 
enemies  and  to  pray  for  them  that  persecute  us — ^how 
can  they  regard  murderous  war  as  anything  but  the 
most  intolerable  and  absolute  of  all  atheisms? 

This  was  the  position  of  Christopher  Sterling.  It 
can  be  stated,  but  it  cannot  be  understood  except  by 
those  who  share  his  opinions.  James  saw  very  clearly 
that  it  was  impossible  for  Christopher  to  look  upon 
military  service  as  Langton  looked  upon  it  or  as  he 
himself  looked  upon  it.  He  did  not  say  that  neither 
Langton  nor  himself  were  Christians.  His  view  was 
that  they  were  Christians  of  two  different  schools.  He 
regarded  Langton  as  the  most  admirable  specimen  of 
the  good  Churchman — upright,  loyal,  fearless,  con- 
servative, a  believer  in  law  and  order,  a  hater  of 


I 


PLAIN  CLOTHES  201 


anarchy  and  dissidence.  Himself  he  regarded  as  a 
very  humble  unit  among  those  who  without  believing 
most  of  the  dogmas  of  Christianity  yet  place  the  figure 
of  Jesus  not  only  in  the  center  of  human  history,  but 
on  the  throne  of  civilization. 

How  could  James  see,  how  could  Langton  see,  the 
things  that  Christopher  saw?  Did  they  not,  in  fact, 
inhabit  a  different  world?  It  was  better  for  them  not 
to  judge  him,  but  to  let  his  morality  act  as  a  spur  to 
their  morality.  James  often  used  a  phrase  of  Edward 
Caird's  in  speaking  of  Christopher.  "He  is  one  of 
those  few  selected  spirits — and  it  is  well  for  mankind 
that  there  are  such — who  cannot  find  their  true  sphere 
except  in  a  life  devoted  to  general  interests,  a  life  of 
philanthropic  self-denial."  James  made  no  bones  about 
the  matter.    He  said  that  Christopher  was  a  saint. 

Christopher  was  certainly  convinced  that  in  with- 
standing the  Military  Service  Act  he  was  following  the 
commandments  of  his  Master.  There  is  no  question 
of  that.  There  is  also  no  question  that  under  the  very 
act  he  ought  to  have  been  exempted. 

When  Jane  proposed  to  him  the  idea  of  four  days* 
retirement  in  the  country  he  embraced  it  with  an 
extraordinary  zest  chiefly  for  a  reason  which  he  did 
not  then  impart  to  her,  knowing  how  it  would  distress 
her.  He  embraced  it  with  this  great  zest  because  he 
wanted  to  bear  without  any  flinching  the  hardships  of 
prison,  and  because  during  the  last  few  weeks  he  had 
been  feeling  the  strain  of  his  work  in  a  manner  which 


202  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

reminded  him  of  his  mortality.  He  shrank  from  the 
idea  of  breaking  down  under  a  test  of  his  faith. 
"Whatever  happens,"  he  told  himself,  *1  must  stick  it 
out." 

He  and  Jane  now  slaved  to  the  point  of  exhaustion 
every  day,  going  round  to  relieve  the  War  Victims 
over  a  very  wide  area  of  London,  every  night  meeting 
in  their  home  and  saying  to  each  other,  "Only  four 
more  days,  only  three  more  days:  and  then  we  shall 
be  free." 

He  slept  very  badly  at  this  time,  his  head  being  so 
crowded  with  business.  He  would  lie  for  hours  after 
he  had  put  his  head  on  the  pillow,  thinking  of  the  mis- 
eries he  had  relieved  that  day,  and  of  the  miseries  he 
must  relieve  to-morrow.  His  sleep  was  disturbed  by 
dreams.  He  would  wake  quite  suddenly,  from  what 
had  seemed  to  him  a  night's  sleep,  and  find  that  it  had 
only  been  a  sleep  of  half  an  hour.  Some  of  his  dreams 
were  full  of  terror. 

On  the  last  day  of  all  before  this  longed-for  excur- 
sion to  the  hills  he  received  the  notice  calling  him  up 
for  military  service.  He  said  to  Jane  that  it  might 
be  ten  days  or  more  before  the  police  were  sent  to 
fetch  him  and  that  whatever  happened  they  would  still 
go  for  their  holiday.  Late  that  night  he  suddenly 
remembered  he  had  not  visited  Mrs.  Pommer,  who  was 
now  living  in  considerable  distress.  He  said  to  Jane, 
"Let  us  will  ourselves  to  wake  half  an  hour  earlier  so 
that  I  may  run  to  Mrs.  Pommer  before  breakfast." 


I 


PLAIN  CLOTHES  203 


Their  wills  worked.  Both  of  them  woke  as  the  clock 
struck  half-past  five.  When  they  were  dressed  and 
had  finished  their  religious  observances,  Jane  said  to 
him,  "I'll  see  to  everything;  you  go  off  and  get  back 
as  quickly  as  possible."  But  Christopher  insisted  upon 
fulfilling  all  the  little  household  tasks  which  normally 
fell  to  his  lot. 

When  he  was  gone  Jane  packed  their  clothes  in  a 
portmanteau,  singing  a  hymn  as  she  did  it,  and  then 
carried  the  bag  into  the  kitchen,  and  placed  it  where 
it  should  meet  Christopher's  eyes  directly  he  entered 
the  room.  She  was  busy  at  the  fire,  expecting  him  back 
every  minute,  when  some  one  rang  at  the  door.  She 
wiped  her  hands  on  her  apron  and  went  to  see  which 
of  their  neighbors  had  called  so  early. 

A  stranger  stood  there.  He  was  a  tallish,  square- 
shouldered,  and  rather  corpulent  man,  red-faced,  with 
a  reddish  moustache,  and  kindly  round  eyes.  He  asked 
if  Mr.  Sterling  lived  there. 

She  said  to  him,  "You  have  come "  but  could  not 

find  the  words. 

"It's  an  unpleasant  duty,"  said  the  plain-clothes  man, 
"but  it's  a  duty,  and  I've  got  to  do  it.    Is  he  in?" 

"No,  but  he'll  be  here  in  a  minute.  Will  you  come 
in!" 

The  policeman  took  off  his  hat  and  stepped  inside, 
wiping  his  feet  with  great  energy  on  the  mat.  When 
this  operation  was  concluded,  Jane  closed  the  door,  and 
went  before  him  into  the  kitchen. 


204  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"I  was  just  getting  breakfast.  May  I  offer  you  a 
cup  of  tea?" 

'Thank  you ;  I'd  be  very  glad,"  answered  the  police- 
man looking  about  him  with  professional  interest. 

The  portmanteau  attracted  his  notice.  "You  weren't 
thinking  of  going  off,  were  you?"  he  asked  chaffingly. 

Jane  explained  the  portmanteau. 

"Ah,  that's  too  bad !"  he  exclaimed ;  "too  bad,  really 
it  is."  He  was  genuinely  distressed.  "Well  there,"  he 
said,  "I  call  that  downright  bad  luck." 

He  sat  down  at  the  breakfast  table,  his  hat  in  his 
lap. 

While  she  was  preparing  the  tea  he  said  to  her,  "I've 
often  heard  of  Mr.  Sterling,  though  I've  never  seen 
him.  People  down  here  speak  very  well  of  him.  He 
has  got  a  good  name.  He  has  been  a  real  friend  to 
many  poor  people  round  about  here.  It's  a  great  pity 
he  should  have  got  himself  into  trouble  over  this  con- 
scription affair." 

"He  feels  it  his  duty  to  oppose  conscription." 

"I  know  he  does ;  but  I  can't  understand  it.  What 
I  mean  to  say  is  this :  if  my  son  goes  to  the  war,  and 
faces  death  for  his  country,  is  my  neighbor's  lout  of  a 
boy  to  sneak  into  his  job?  That  doesn't  seem  right, 
does  it?" 

"No ;  it  seems  very  hard." 

"And  if  the  country  says  that  all  have  got  to  take 
a  fair  share  in  keeping  the  Huns  out  of  England,  why 
should  a  man  be  excused  simply  because  he  doesn't  like 


I 


PLAIN  CLOTHES  205 


m. 


killing?  I  don't  suppose  anybody  actually  likes  killing. 
But  it  has  got  to  be  done.  If  we  don't  kill  them,  they'll 
certainly  kill  us.  There's  no  uncertainty  about  that,  is 
there?  And  look  what  the  beasts  did  in  Belgium — 
worse  than  any  savages.  No  sugar,  thank  you.  I  like 
it  well  enough,  but  I've  got  my  waist  measurement  to 
consider." 

At  this  point  the  front  door  opened,  and  Christopher 
entered  the  kitchen  in  a  rush  exclaiming,  "And  now 
we're  freel" 

On  seeing  the  plain-clothes  constable,  who  rose  awk- 
wardly from  his  seat  by  the  breakfast  table,  Christo- 
pher went  as  white  as  the  cloth.  For  a  moment,  so 
extreme  and  overwhelming  was  his  disappointment, 
all  the  manhood  seemed  to  go  out  of  him.  He  visibly 
quailed,  visibly  shrank. 

But  before  the  policeman  could  speak,  and  just  he- 
re Jane  had  begun  to  explain,  he  pulled  himself  to- 
gether. He  smiled  rather  sadly,  went  forward,  and 
putting  out  his  hand  to  the  poHceman  said  quietly, 
"Welcome,  friend." 

The  constable  said  that  he  did  not  see  why  he  should 
disturb  their  breakfast,  since  he  felt  quite  sure  that  if 
Mr.  Sterling  gave  him  his  word  to  be  at  the  police- 
court  at  ten  o'clock  that  word  would  not  be  broken. 
"No ;  it  will  not  be  broken,"  said  Christopher. 
"I'll  just  finish  my  cup  of  tea,  and  then  I'll  leave 
you,"  said  the  policeman. 

"Won't  you  stay  and  breakfast  with  us?"  asked 
Christopher. 


2o6  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"I  think  you'd  rather  be  alone  together,"  said  the 
plain-clothes  man;  "in  any  case  Fve  already  had  one 
breakfast  so  I  don't  want  a  second.  As  I  was  saying 
to  your  good  lady  just  now,  I've  got  my  waist  meas- 
urement to  think  of." 

He  laughed  over  his  joke,  shook  hands,  and  departed 
very  amiably. 

When  Christopher  came  back  from  the  door,  Jane 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  kitchen,  waiting  for 
him,  her  eyes  questioning  his,  her  whole  attitude  one 
of  dumb  helplessness. 

Not  far  away  from  her  was  the  little  portmanteau 
which  she  had  packed  for  the  holiday. 

He  went  to  her  with  a  smile  and  took  her  very 
gently  into  his  arms.  Then  he  said  to  her,  speaking 
close  to  her  ear,  "Think  of  what  our  soldiers  have  to 
face :  think  of  what  their  women  have  to  endure ;  there 
is  courage  in  the  human  heart  sufficient  for  anything 
and  a  courage  greater  even  than  that.  Now  come  along 
to  breakfast  and  let  me  tell  you  some  good  news.  Mrs. 
Pommer  has  got  a  job  in  spite  of  her  name,  and  the 
eldest  girl  is  going  out  to  service  next  week." 

While  they  stood  there  the  canary  down  below  sang 
as  if  its  heart  must  burst,  it  was  so  happy. 


CHAPTER  X 


HANDED    OVER 


ONE  of  the  neighbors  who  had  seen  the  plain- 
clothes man  arrive,  and  who  had  watched  him 
from  the  court  below  ascend  to  the  top  floor — for  the 
narrow  stone  staircase  of  the  tenement,  with  its  heavy 
iron  rail,  had  windowless  openings  at  every  stage — ^put 
the  exciting  news  about  that  Mr.  Sterling  was 
"nabbed." 

Therefore  when  Christopher  and  Jane  came  down 
the  stairs  they  found  all  the  doors  open  or  half -open, 
with  people  standing  there  either  to  bid  them  good- 
bye or  to  peep  at  them.  On  the  ground  floor  an  old 
woman,  very  ill  and  feeble,  stood  in  the  doorway,  shak- 
ing her  gray  head,  weeping  without  sound,  and  looking 
the  very  picture  of  despair.  Christopher  approached 
her  with  a  cheerful  smile.  She  shook  her  head  still 
more,  threw  up  her  poor  old  hands,  and  wept  more 
visibly,  though  still  without  sound. 

"You  mustn't  be  sorry  for  me,"  said  Christopher, 
taking  her  hand.  The  withered  face  so  full  of  the 
wrinkles  of  suflFering  and  sorrow  seemed  to  him  like 
the  face  of  the  whole  world.    "I  shall  soon  come  back," 


207 


2o8  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

he  said  gently ;  "and  my  wife  will  look  after  you  while 
I  am  away/' 

The  old  dame  clung  to  his  hand,  squeezing  it  tight 
between  both  of  hers,  and  stared  up  into  his  face,  shak- 
ing her  head  as  if  to  say,  "It's  no  use  your  saying  any- 
thing, no  use  pretending  you'll  ever  come  back:  my 
heart  is  broken,  my  heart  is  broken." 

When  he  tried  to  take  his  hand  away  she  suddenly 
lifted  it  up,  pressed  it  against  her  shrunken  breast,  and 
then  bent  her  head  and  kissed  it,  tears  falling  fast,  a 
little  faint  sound  of  sobs  coming  from  her  lips.  Then, 
flinging  a  look  of  wild  grief  at  him,  she  turned  and 
shuffled  back  into  her  home,  closing  the  door  with 
swiftness  as  if  to  shut  out  a  sight  which  her  old  eyes 
could  endure  no  longer.  She  had  spoken  not  a  single 
word. 

In  the  court  a  number  of  women  stood  waiting  to 
say  good-bye.  They  did  not  approach;  but,  laughing 
or  smiling,  waved  their  hands  and  called  out  cheery 
words  of  farewell.  At  the  last  moment  one  of  them, 
a  great  buxom  woman  with  her  hair  combed  tight  off 
her  forehead  and  tied  up  in  a  knot  at  the  back  of  her 
head,  rushed  over  to  Christopher  and  exclaimed  in  a 
loud  hoarse  voice,  shaking  his  hand  very  heartily,  "If 
they  put  the  likes  of  you  in  prison,  Mr.  Sterling,  all 
I  can  say  is  that  the  likes  of  them  ought  to  be  put  into 
hell-fire  for  the  duration  of  the  war." 

As  Christopher  and  Jane  made  their  way  up  the 
street  he  said  to  her  that  it  would  cheer  him  up  in  his 


I 


HANDED  OVER  209 


work  to  know  that  she  was  carrying  on  their  work  of 
neighborliness. 

"I  know  I  need  not  tell  you,"  he  said,  "that  what  I 
am  going  to  endure  for  our  cause  is  as  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  what  the  soldiers  are  enduring  for  theirs. 
And  our  cause,  of  course,  is  infinitely  the  greater.  Our 
cause  is  not  a  flag,  or  a  country,  or  a  system  of  moral- 
ity. Men  are  willing  to  suffer  fearfully  for  such 
things.  But  our  cause  is  a  better  world,  a  union  of  all 
the  nations  in  love  and  peace,  and  God's  will  here  upon 
'       earth." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  police  station,  Christopher 
was  taken  into  custody,  while  Jane  was  void  that  she 
might  go  into  the  court.  She  found  a  few  shabby  peo- 
ple sitting  on  a  bench  at  the  back  of  the  building, 
speaking  in  subdued  voices  as  though  they  were  in 
church.  In  the  body  of  the  court  two  or  three  uni- 
formed policemen  without  helmets  were  laughing  and 
I  talking  together  in  good  humor  as  they  went  to  and 
^Rfro  with  printed  papers  in  their  hands.  She  was  struck 
by  the  contrast  which  the  well-fed  appearance  of  these 
poHcemen  made  with  the  look  of  starvation  on  the 
faces  of  the  ragged  people  at  the  back  of  the  court. 

Doors  opened  from  time  to  time,  admitting  people 
who  had  official  business  with  the  court,  solicitors  and 
witnesses.  A  man  whom  she  took  to  be  the  court  mis- 
sionary came  in  and  stood  looking  about  him  with  a 
benign  smile  on  his  face.  He  was  joined  presently 
by  a  kind-looking  woman,  dressed  like  a  deaconess. 


210  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

whom  Jane  learned  later  on  was  the  lady  missionary. 

As  she  sat  in  her  corner  of  a  pew,  the  plain-clothes 
man  came  to  her  and  said,  "I've  brought  some  one  to 
keep  you  company :  don't  let  him  run  away,  will  you  ?" 
— and  stepping  on  one  side  he  made  room  for  Chris- 
topher to  pass.  Jane's  face  lit  up.  She  looked  at  the 
plain-clothes  man  with  a  shining  gratitude,  and  said 
impetuously,  "How  kind  you  are!  thank  you,  thank 
you!" 

Christopher  put  his  hand  on  hers  as  he  sat  at  her 
side  and  said,  "They  were  all  extraordinarily  nice  to 
me.  In  fact  they  couldn't  have  been  kinder.  No 
harshness  at  all.  I  begin  to  think  that  the  modern 
version  of  martyrdom  is  rather  tame." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  court  seemed  to  be  quite  full. 
There  was  now  a  buzz  of  conversation.  A  couple  of 
reporters  sat  at  a  table  sharpening  pencils  and  talking 
together,  their  note-books  open  in  front  of  them. 
Solicitors'  clerks  stood  at  the  table  in  the  center  of  the 
court  looking  about  them,  with  formidable  documents 
under  their  arms,  their  hands  in  their  pockets.  Police- 
men became  more  numerous.  The  clerk  of  the  court 
entered,  and  took  his  place  under  the  bench,  busying 
himself  immediately  with  a  number  of  papers.  Soon 
afterwards  a  loud  voice  called  out  for  silence,  and  the 
buzz  of  voices  ceased  with  a  suddenness  which  was 
rather  striking.    People  rose  to  their  feet. 

The  magistrate  went  to  his  chair,  sat  down  blowing 
his  nose  very  vigorously,  and  began  looking  at  the 


I 


HANDED  OVER  211 


papers  in  front  of  him.  The  clerk  stood  up  to  speak 
to  him,  and  the  magistrate  leaned  forward  to  hear  what 
he  had  to  say,  still  rubbing  the  end  of  his  nose.  x\t  the 
end  of  the  clerk's  communication  he  nodded  his  head, 
sat  back  in  his  chair,  and  putting  his  handkerchief  away 
began  to  fish  for  his  eyeglasses. 

"He  seems  quite  a  pleasant  person,"  Christopher 
whispered  to  his  wife. 

She  exclaimed  suddenly,  "Oh,  look  at  those  poor 
women !" 

Three  women  stood  in  the  dock.  They  were  very 
foul  to  look  at,  with  a  suUenness  of  expression  which 
was  horrible  to  see,  a  suUenness  which  showed  no 
shame  for  their  depravity,  but  rather  vindictive  rage 
against  those  who  had  dared  to  impugn  their  respec- 
tability. One  of  the  women  was  covered  with  pimples. 
Christopher  was  at  first  struck  by  the  slowness  of 
the  procedure.  A  young  constable  was  sworn,  and 
began  to  tell  his  story  in  brief  jerky  sentences,  the 
magistrate  and  the  clerk  writing  down  his  words,  the 
magistrate  saying  "Yes"  at  the  end  of  each  phrase, 
at  which  the  constable  would  go  on  with  his  labored 
instalments. 

The  women  were  prostitutes  and  the  charge  against 
them  was  of  soliciting  soldiers. 

When  the  constable  had  finished,  the  magistrate  sat 

back  in  his  chair  and  looked  at  the  women.     "Have 

you  any  questions  to  ask  the  witness?"  he  demanded. 

They  replied  that  they  had,  and  began  firing  off  the 


212  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

most  fierce  questions,  leaning  over  the  dock  with  faces 
of  the  most  indignant  anger.  The  constable  answered 
them  briefly  and  politely. 

When  this  was  over  the  magistrate,  who  had  been 
watching  the  women  closely,  leaned  forward  to  his 
papers,  and  sentenced  them  to  prison.  Then  he  blew 
his  nose  and  said,  "Next  case." 

They  were  bustled  out  of  court  and  another  prisoner 
placed  in  the  dock  —  a  little  undersized  jail  bird 
charged  with  stealing  a  sack  of  flour.  The  sack  of 
flour  was  brought  into  court  and  dumped  down  in 
front  of  the  dock,  causing  a  good  deal  of  amusement 
to  the  policemen. 

Christopher's  case  was  taken  last  of  all.  Those  who 
had  gone  before  him  were  all  prostitutes  and  thieves. 

The  magistrate  studied  Christopher  with  interest 

"Are  you  Christopher  Sterling?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  magistrate  nodded  his  head.  "Don't  you  agree," 
he  inquired,  "that  it  would  be  a  very  unfortunate  thing 
for  this  country  if  the  majority  of  its  men  held  your 
views  about  military  service  ?" 

"In"  that  case,"  replied  Christopher,  "the  majority 
of  men  in  Germany  would  hold  the  same  views." 

"I'm  afraid  I  do  not  see  how  that  follows,"  said  the 
magistrate.  "However,  argument  does  not  seem  to 
have  much  effect  in  these  matters.  I  must  fine  you 
five  pounds,  and  you  will  be  handed  over  to  the  mil- 
itary authorities."    He  took  out  his  handkerchief,  and 


I 


HANDED  OVER  213 


glancing  at  the  clock  blew  his  nose  for  the  last  time 
that  morning. 

Jane  watched  Christopher  go,  and  attempted  to  an- 
swer his  smile:  but  she  was  utterly  wretched,  almost 
numb  with  the  thought  that  now  at  last  "they"  had 
actually  got  him.  She  said  to  herself,  as  she  hung 
about  the  court,  "But  it  is  only  his  body  they  have  got. 
They  have  got  him  bodily ;  but  they  cannot  lay  hands 
on  his  spirit." 

It  occurred  to  her  that  she  ought  at  once  to  acquaint 
his  mother  with  this  news,  but  she  felt  that  she  must 
wait  to  see  Christopher  marched  away  by  the  soldiers. 
To  have  gone  away  would  have  seemed  like  deserting 
him. 

The  escort  did  not  come  until  five  o'clock. 

When  she  had  seen  them  depart,  Christopher  walk- 
ing on  the  outer  edge  of  the  pavement  with  his  coat 
flung  over  his  shoulder,  the  escort  walking  in  a  friendly 
manner  at  his  side,  Jane  turned  away,  and  with  a 
prayer  to  God  for  his  safety,  started  off  to  see  Mrs. 
Sterling. 

She  had  eaten  nothing  since  breakfast,  and  her 
breakfast  had  only  been  half-eaten,  so  that  she  was 
faint  and  weak  when  she  reached  Portman  Square. 

Mrs.  Sterling  was  in  the  drawing-room,  with  Arthur 
and  his  wife.  They  had  finished  tea,  but  the  things 
had  not  yet  been  taken  away. 

"You  look  quite  famished,  Jane,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Sterling ;  "have  you  had  any  tea  ?" 


214  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

"No ;  but  I  don't  want  any,  thank  you." 

"What  is  the  matter?    Has  anything  happened?'* 

"They  have  taken  Christopher." 

Arthur,  who  had  been  looking  Jane  up  and  down 
as  if  she  were  some  repulsive  creature  from  another 
world,  exploded  with  anger.  "Upon  my  soul,"  he 
cried,  "it's  really  too  bad !  I  suppose  we  shall  have  it 
all  in  the  papers  to-morrow.  It's  intolerable.  I  wish 
to  God  religious  people  would  sometimes  think  of  the 
feelings  of  their  own  family.** 

He  began  to  walk  about  the  room. 

Mrs.  Sterling  said,  "Where  have  they  taken  him?" 

"I  don't  know.  We  went  to  the  police  court  together, 
and  then  the  escort  arrived  and  he  was  taken  away." 

Lady  Louisa  was  very  kind  to  this  queer  little  sister- 
in-law  of  the  slums  who  looked  so  meek  and  so  shabby 
and  so  wretched.  She  said  to  her,  "I  am  sure  Chris- 
topher will  be  brave,  and  so  you  must  be  brave  too, 
musn't  you  ?  I  know  you  will  be.  Now  let  me  advise 
a  cup  of  tea," 

Arthur  continued  to  fume.  "It's  all  very  well,"  he 
said,  "but  this  sort  of  thing  is  horribly  unpleasant  for 
us.  Christopher  doesn't  think  of  that  He  thinks  of 
himself,  and  now  I  suppose  he  is  flattering  his  soul 
with  the  idea  that  he  is  a  martyr.  But  this  sort  of 
thing  means  that  one  is  chaffed  in  the  club ;  that  one's 
name  is  bandied  about  in  the  newspapers ;  that  people 
smile  when  they  meet  one,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
It's  revolting." 


HANDED  OVER  215 

Lady  Louisa  said  to  his  mother,  "I'll  take  him  away 
and  smooth  him  down."  She  shook  hands  with  Mrs. 
Sterling  and  Jane,  saying  kind  things  to  poor  little 
Jane,  and  then  going  over  to  her  husband,  put  her  arm 
through  his  and  took  him  off  with  her,  looking  back 
at  the  others  from  the  door. 

Arthur  did  not  return  to  say  good-bye.  He  was  in 
a  perfect  fury. 

When  a  fresh  teapot  had  been  brought,  Mrs.  Ster- 
ling, who  up  to  that  moment  had  been  asking  questions 
about  the  police-court  proceedings,  rather  coldly  Jane 
thought,  relapsed  into  silence.  She  poured  Jane  out 
a  cup  of  tea,  and  then  sat  back  on  the  sofa,  saying 
nothing.  She  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  towards  Jane 
of  great  hostility.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Jane  had 
brought  Christopher  to  this  disaster.  She  had  en- 
couraged him  in  his  fanaticism,  and  now  when  he  was 
paying  the  penalty  of  that  fanaticism,  here  she  sat  eat- 
ing and  drinking  at  her  ease. 

It  was  curious  how  this  feeling  of  hostility  deprived 
Mrs.  Sterling  of  her  usual  good  sense  and  her  natural 
fairness  of  mind.  No  woman  was  less  narrowed  by 
snobbishness,  and  yet  as  she  sat  back  on  her  sofa  look- 
ing at  this  shabby  little  daughter-in-law  at  her  tea-table, 
she  was  aware  of  social  superiority,  conscious  of  a 
solid  disdain  for  her  son's  wife.  She  found  herself 
bitterly  blaming  Christopher  for  having  made  this  mis- 
alliance, as  if  it  was  his  marriage  which  had  brought 
about  his  downfall. 


fe 


2i6  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

With  this  feeling  of  social  distance  went  the  feeling 
of  intellectual  superiority.  She  found  herself  measur- 
ing Jane's  intellect  contemptuously.  What  insolence  it 
was  for  this  little  creature  of  the  suburbs  to  set  up  her 
judgment  against  the  whole  world!  How  grotesque 
that  she  should  presume  to  think  she  knew  better  than 
other  people  1  What  on  earth  did  she  know  of  science 
and  theology  ?  Imagine  her  in  controversy  with  a  man 
like  the  Bishop  of  Westminster  —  what  a  figure  she 
would  cut ! 

Jane,  dimly  aware  of  this  feeling  on  the  part  of  her 
mother-in-law,  found  it  exceedingly  difficult  to  get  on 
with  her  tea.  She  was  hungry  and  thirsty,  but  in  this 
hostile  atmosphere  to  swallow  anything  required  an 
effort.  She  had  to  keep  clearing  her  throat  to  prevent 
herself  making  ugly  sounds  when  she  swallowed.  If 
she  dropped  crumbs  in  her  lap,  she  felt  guilty:  and 
when  she  picked  up  those  crumbs  she  noticed  how  red 
and  rough  were  her  hands.  She  had  never  felt  natural 
and  at  her  ease  in  this  drawing-room,  but  never  before 
had  she  felt  so  wretched  and  unhappy  as  she  felt  now 
alone  with  Christopher's  mother. 

Mrs.  Sterling  said  to  her  at  last,  "Well,  you  have 
both  chosen  to  set  yourselves  against  the  world,  and 
this  is  what  it  has  brought  you  to." 

Jane  could  have  cried. 

"I  confess,"  continued  Mrs.  Sterling  "that  I  do  not 
sympathize  with  Christopher's  attitude  in  this  matter, 
no,  not  the  least  bit  in  the  world.    It  is  one  thing  to 


c 


HANDED  OVER  217 


to  military  service  on  religious  grounds ;  but  to 
object  to  any  form  of  non-combatant  service,  in  a  time 
of  the  most  critical  national  anxiety,  seems  to  me  illog- 
ical and  provocative.  There  was  no  need  for  him  to 
be  arrested,  no  need  for  him  to  be  taken  to  the  police- 
court.  People  who  might  have  respected  him  for  his 
refusal  to  take  a  combatant  part  in  the  war  will  now 
condemn  him  as  a  mere  fanatic.  Many  of  course  will 
call  him  a  traitor.  He  refused  to  help  his  country  in 
any  way,  even  to  assist  the  wounded.  I  call  that  in- 
comprehensible." 

Jane  put  down  her  teacup,  and  said  very  quietly, 
"But  surely  you  will  agree  that  Christopher  is  more 
consistent  than  the  conscientious  objector  who  under- 
takes non-combatant  service?" 

"No,  I  will  not  agree  to  that." 

"But  Christopher  says  he  cannot  take  non-combatant 
service  which  releases  another  man  to  do  the  work 
which  his  own  conscience  will  not  let  him  do.  He 
refuses  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  whole  machin- 
ery of  war.  It  is  not  only  the  actual  work  of  killing 
which  he  opposes.  He  opposes  everything  which  makes 
war  possible."  1 

Mrs.  Sterling  regarded  this  demure  little  daughter- 
in-law  with  a  complacent  smile,  as  though  almost 
amused  at  her  absurdity.  She  said,  "My  dear  Jane, 
you  and  Christopher  have  allowed  yourselves  to  be 
mesmerized  by  words.  You  do  not  see  any  of  the  facts 
of  life.    You  see  them  only  in  their  literary  expres- 


2i8  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

sions — ^words  on  paper.  Out  In  France  Christopher's 
own  brothers  are  exposing  themselves  to  the  shell  fire 
of  the  enemy,  facing  death  in  order  to  save  the  free- 
dom of  the  world  from  the  most  appalling  form  of  des- 
potism which  has  ever  menaced  mankind.  Behind  them 
are  some  of  the  greatest  surgeons  and  doctors  in  Lon- 
don, who  have  sacrificed  their  practices,  and  their 
home  comforts,  to  tend  them  when  they  are  wounded. 
Everywhere  in  France  you  find  self-sacrifice — ^the  self- 
sacrifice  of  chaplains,  nurses,  social  workers,  and 
laborers.  The  whole  manhood  and  womanhood  of  the 
country  are  up  in  arms  to  defend  liberty  and  to  share 
the  burden  of  the  conflict.  These  things  are  real.  They 
cost  life  and  limb.  They  are  paid  for  in  wounds  and 
death.  They  save  us  from  destruction.  But  you  and 
Christopher  see  only  a  wordy  formula  in  this  struggle 
of  the  nations,  and  behind  all  the  immense  suffering 
and  heroic  self-sacrifice  of  your  country,  you  cling  to 
a  fad.  How  you  do  not  see  the  shame,  if  not  the  folly 
of  your  position,  I  cannot  imagine." 

Never  before  had  Mrs.  Sterling  spoken  to  her  in 
this  fashion.  Jane  was  so  taken  by  surprise,  and  so 
hurt  by  the  cruelty  of  the  onslaught,  that  she  could  not 
find  speech.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Mrs.  Sterling  was 
hard  and  unfeeling.  She  had  always  been  aware  of 
unsympathy  towards  her  on  Mrs.  Sterling's  part,  but 
she  had  never  dreamed  that  the  kindness  she  had 
hitherto  received  at  her  hands  was  a  mask  for  active 
hostility  and  personal  dislike. 


HANDED  OVER  219 


"Don't  you  think,"  asked  Mrs.  Sterling,  in  the  tones 
of  indulgence,  "that  it's  rather  presumptuous  of  you 
to  set  yourself  up  against  the  rest  of  the  world?  I 
mean,  does  it  never  occur  to  you  that  the  grounds  on 
which  you  believe  your  opinions  to  be  more  right  than 
those  of  other  people  are  entirely  subjective?" 

Jane  looked  down  from  the  hard  and  accusing  eyes 
of  her  mother-in-law  and  found  herself  regarding  her 
own  poor  rough  hands  where  they  lay  in  her  lap,  ex- 
pressing in  some  strange  way  a  sense  of  guiltiness. 
"Each  one  of  us,"  she  answered,  speaking  very  softly, 
"must  be  guided  by  the  voice  within." 

"That's  where  the  mischief  is,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling. 
"The  voice  within  is  nothing  more  than  our  own  con- 
sciousness, which  needs  to  be  watched,  to  be  educated, 
and  to  be  controlled,  before  we  can  trust  it." 

"Christopher  and  I  believe,"  said  Jane,  raising  her 
eyes,  "that  God  speaks  to  those  who  love  Him  and 
desire  to  hear  Him." 

"How  many  people,  do  you  suppose,  believe  the  same 
thing  ?  Think  for  a  moment.  Think  of  all  those  whose 
opinions  are  the  direct  contrary  of  yours,  who  yet  say 
that  God  speaks  to  them.  Don't  you  see  how  absurd 
that  is  ?  Why,  the  Turks  believe  that  God  commands 
them  to  butcher  the  Armenians.  The  German  Kaiser 
listens  to  God  night  and  morning.  The  churches  in 
Germany,  Lutheran  and  Roman  Catholic,  are  full  of 
people  praying  to  the  same  God  who  tells  you  one  thing 
and  them  another.    There  isn't  a  savage  in  the  jungle 


I 


220  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

or  the  desert  who  does  not  think  that  he  takes  his  com- 
mands from  God." 

"It  is  possible,"  said  Jane,  "for  people  to  deceive 
themselves,  but  not  if  they  obey  the  will  of  God.  Obe- 
dience to  the  will  of  God  opens  the  door  of  the  heart 
to  His  guidance  and  His  inspiration.  Only  a  few 
obey." 

Mrs.  Sterling  smiled.  "My  dear  child,  how  are  you 
to  decide  what  is  the  will  of  God?" 

"Christ  is  the  Word." 

"And  how  do  you  form  your  opinion  of  that  Word  ?" 

"From  the  Bible." 

"Exactly." 

"In  the  Bible  the  will  of  God  is  made  manifest  to 
men." 

"The  Jew  has  his  Talmud,  the  Moslem  has  his 
Koran,  and  the  Christians  of  every  warring  sect  have 
their  Bible — all  books,  my  dear  Jane,  fallible  books 
written  by  fallible  men  before  the  birth  of  science. 
However,  it  is  no  use  arguing  with  you.  You  and 
Christopher  are  perfectly  self-satisfied.  You  have 
chosen  your  way  and  you  must  go  upon  it.  But,  as 
a  great  student  of  the  Bible,  does  it  ever  come  across 
your  mind  that  Jesus  deluded  himself,  and  that  the 
end  of  his  life,  recorded  in  this  very  Bible,  was  the 
realization  of  his  mistake? — ^you  know  what  I  mean, 
the  cry  from  the  cross.  He  expected  God  to  act.  He 
had  told  his  disciples  that  God  would  act.  One  had 
only  to  pray,  and  God  would  answer.    Would  a  father 


HANDED  OVER  221 


give  a  stone  to  a  son  who  asked  for  bread?  Who 
could  suppose  such  a  thing?  But  when  he  cried  to 
God  in  his  extremity  there  was  no  answer — not  even 
a  mocking  stone :  nothing  but  silence." 

Jane  felt  herself  filled  with  an  increasing  fear.  She 
saw  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Sterling  something  more  ter- 
rible than  dislike  of  herself.  She  saw  there  a  hatred 
of  Christ,  cold,  intellectual,  contemptuous.  This  hatred 
expressed  itself  in  the  tones  of  her  voice.  It  was  im- 
possible not  to  feel  that  Mrs.  Sterling  bore  towards 
Christ  a  hatred  that  came  from  the  very  depths  of  her 
heart.    From  such  wickedness  Jane  recoiled  with  fear. 

"This  war,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling  bitterly,  "will  make 
an  end  of  Christianity.  You  are  not  likely  to  persuade 
people  that  God  manages  our  affairs  after  such  a  ruin 
as  this.  You  certainly  will  not  be  able  to  assert  that 
He  answers  prayer.  While  the  war  lasts,  no  doubt, 
superstition  will  prevent  people  from  speaking  out. 
But  after  the  war  there  will  be  no  more  Christ.  You 
may  be  sure  of  that." 

Jane  uttered  a  little  prayer  in  the  silence  of  her 
heart,  and  then  made  answer,  "You  are  speaking  of 
a  Christ  I  know  nothing  about,  the  Christ  of  the 
Churches.  It  will  be  good  for  humanity  when  men 
turn  away  from  so  false  a  Christ.  But  the  Christ  I 
know,  the  Christ  I  love,  the  Christ  who  lives,  is  he 
who  binds  up  the  broken  heart,  who  hears  the  sighing 
of  the  contrite  spirit,  who  comforts  the  mourner,  who 
changes  the  evil  heart,  and  who  guides  the  feet  of  his 


222  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

children  into  the  way  of  peace.  Not  even  war  can 
drive  this  Christ  out  of  the  world.  He  has  overcome 
the  world.  The  world  is  his,  and  he  will  claim  it  for 
his  own.  Hate  disputes  his  right  to  the  world,  but 
love  is  stronger  than  hate." 

"How  pretty  it  all  sounds! — ^but  how  false  to  the 
facts." 

Jane  thought  for  a  moment.  Presently  raising  her 
eyes,  she  said,  "You  are  very  fond  of  James,  aren't 
you?" 

"Indeed  I  am." 

"Do  you  never  pray  for  him?" 

"Never." 

''I  can't  understand  that.  How  can  you  bear  to  be 
parted  from  him?" 

"Prayer  would  not  unite  us." 

"I  wish  you  would  pray  for  him.  It  would  bring 
him  so  much  nearer." 

"I  am  not  superstitious." 

"Don't  you  believe  in  God?" 

"Oh,  in  something  we  know  nothing  about." 

"How  alone  you  must  feel." 

"But,  as  you  see,  I  manage  to  support  my  loneli- 
ness. I  find  it  is  easier  to  bear  a  load  when  one  is 
under  no  delusion  that  a  ghost  is  carrying  it  for  one." 

"Why  do  you  say  it  is  a  delusion  ?" 

"That  is  my  experience." 

"You  have  prayed  in  vain  ?" 

"Many  times." 


HANDED  OVER  223 

"But — ^when  you  prayed,  did  you  love  God  with  all 
your  heart  and  mind  and  soul  ?'* 

Mrs.  Sterling  winced  a  little  at  this.  "I'm  afraid," 
she  said,  smiHng  almost  agreeably,  "that  we  shall  never 
agree  on  the  subject  of  religion.  But  my  unanswered 
prayers  do  not  seem  to  me  so  much  to  the  point  just 
now  as  yours.  I  suppose  you  have  prayed  that  Chris- 
topher should  not  be  arrested?" 

"If  it  was  God's  will  that  he  should  not  be." 

"Ah,  that  makes  all  prayers  rational." 

"It  makes  them  safe." 

"You  are  quite  satisfied  with  Christopher's  present 
predicament  ?" 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  it  is  God's  will  he  should  suffer 
this  persecution." 

"Well,  I  hope  your  faith  may  support  you  while  he  is 
in  prison.  For  myself  I  shall  never  cease  to  deplore  the 
ruin  of  his  life.  He  was  a  boy  of  exceptional  promise. 
He  won  extraordinai*y  distinction  at  school  and  college. 
He  had  the  world  at  his  feet.  At  this  moment  he  might 
have  been  one  of  the  greatest  ministers  of  state.  But 
he  branched  aside.  He  got  among  phantoms.  And 
now,  in  the  most  critical  hour  of  his  country's  fate, 
he  is  in  prison.  It  dosen't  seem  to  me  a  very  satis- 
factory end  to  his  life." 

"But  it  isn't  the  end !"  cried  Jane  with  some  vigor. 
"This  is  only  the  beginning  of  a  work  that  with  God's 
help  will  make  a  new  world." 

"In  the  meantime  Christopher  is  in  prison,  and  we 


224  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

can  do  nothing  to  help  him."  Her  face  hardened.  "It's 
that  which  makes  me  so  angry.  We  can't  help  him. 
We  can  do  nothing  at  all.  They  may  ill-treat  him, 
and  we  shall  not  hear  about  it.  He  may  be  ill,  and 
they  won't  tell  us.  We  can't  even  write  to  him.  It 
will  be  weeks,  or  months,  I  suppose,  before  they  allow 
any  of  us  to  see  him,  hear  from  him,  or  write  to  him. 
And  his  manner  of  life  has  been  weakening  him.  He 
was  never  strong,  and  now  he  looks  almost  fragile. 
What  v;ill  prison  do  to  him  ?    I  feel  as  if  .   .  .  " 

So  much  anger  blazed  into  her  eyes  that  Jane,  who 
had  been  listening  with  a  most  unhappy  heart  to  this 
prophecy  of  ill,  shrank  from  it  in  astonishment. 

"I  was  going  to  say,"  Mrs.  Sterling  continued,  "that 
I  could  almost  with  may  own  hands  tear  Christ  down 
from  his  cross." 

Jane  rose  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  white  face  and  a 
great  fear  in  her  eyes  approached  Mrs.  Sterling, 
stretching  out  her  hand  in  farewell. 

"I  cannot  bear,"  she  said,  with  quiet  earnestness, 
"to  hear  you  speak  of  our  Saviour  and  our  redeemer 
as  I  speak  of  Satan." 

"He  has  ruined  my  son,"  said  Mrs.  Sterling. 

"He  will  save  my  husband,"  replied  Jane.  Then, 
holding  Mrs.  Sterling's  hand,  she  added,  "I  am  not 
afraid.  I  shall  not  weep  for  him.  I  shall  miss  him 
and  I  shall  think  of  him.  But  I  shall  never  fear  for 
him.    Christ  will  share  his  prison  cell.    Christ  will  hold 


HANDED  OVER  225 

lis  hand  in  the  dark,  Christ  will  speak  to  him  in  soli- 
tude. If  you  only  knew  the  love  of  Christ!  Ah,  how 
I  wish  you  knew  the  love  of  the  living  Christ." 

Mrs.  Sterling  smiled  as  she  listened  to  these  impul- 
sive words. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE    POWER   OF   DESPOTISM 


CURIOUSLY  enough  it  was  from  Arthur  that 
Mrs.  Sterling  received  her  first  shock  of 
awakening. 

When  it  became  known  that  Christopher  had  been 
sentenced  by  a  district  court-martial  to  one  hundred 
and  twelve  days'  hard  labor,  Mrs.  SterMng  remarked 
to  Arthur  that  she  felt  more  or  less  greatly  relieved. 
"I  was  so  afraid,"  she  explained,  "they  would  send 
him  to  penal  servitude." 

Arthur,  whose  attitude  towards  conscientious  ob- 
jectors had  been  slightly  modified  by  the  recently 
acquired  knowledge  that  men  of  the  standing  of  Lord 
Selborne,  Lord  Hugh  Cecil,  and  Lord  Henry  Bentinck 
were  opposed  to  the  Government's  treatment  of  these 
Quakers  and  Tolstoy ians,  informed  his  mother  very 
gravely  that  she  was  much  mistaken  if  she  thought 
penal  servitude  a  more  serious  punishment  than  hard 
labor. 

He  was  so  impressive  and  spoke  with  so  much 
authority  on  this  subject  that  both  his  wife  and  his 
mother  listened  to  his  exposition  with  a  new  interest 
in  the  man  himself. 

226 


r 


THE  POWER  OF  DESPOTISM  227 

"A  judge  will  send  a  man  to  seven  years'  penal 
servitude,"  he  said,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
his  hands  behind  his  back,  one  of  his  legs  giving  now 
and  then  at  the  knee,  "with  far  less  unhappiness  to 
himself  than  he  will  sentence  another  to  two  years' 
hard  labor.  In  fact,  two  years  is  the  limit  of  hard 
labor.  The  human  mind  breaks  under  it.  It  is  a  sys- 
tem of  punishment  aimed  at  the  mind.  In  penal  ser- 
vitude the  State  is  intent  on  keeping  a  man's  body  in 
its  care ;  it  aims  simply  at  preventing  him  from  com- 
mitting crimes.  But  in  hard  labor  its  purpose  Is  to 
terrorize  the  mind.  It  is  rather  well  thought  out  trom 
that  point  of  view.  It  begins  with  soHtary  confine- 
ment. For  ten  hours  of  every  day  the  convict  works 
in  absolute  solitude,  locked  up  in  his  cell.  The  work 
is  not  hard,  which  is  part  of  the  scheme  for  breaking 
down  the  mind.  When  work  is  taken  away  from  him, 
he  spends  the  other  fourteen  hours  of  the  day  in  lone- 
liness and  idleness,  with  a  plank  bed,  six  feet  by  two 
feet  and  a  half,  to  sleep  on.  This  ten  hours  of  solitary 
confinement  and  monotonous  work  lasts  for  a  month, 
and  reduces  the  convict  to  a  suitable  condition  of  sub- 
servience. After  this,  he  is  allowed  to  work  for  five 
hours  of  the  day  in  the  presence  of  other  prisoners, 
but  in  absolute  silence.  For  five  hours  he  can  gloat 
upon  the  spectacle  of  a  lot  of  poor  devils  like  himself, 
working  in  the  windows  of  the  prison,  and  then  back 
he  goes  to  his  little  cell  for  the  nineteen  other  hours 
of  the  day.    At  the  end  of  eight  weeks  he  is  cowed, 


22S  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

and  if  he  has  behaved  himself  properly  and  managed 
to  suit  his  subserviency  to  all  the  moods  of  the  warders 
who  look  after  him,  he  is  allowed  to  write  a  letter  and 
to  receive  a  visit  of  twenty  minutes  from  not  more 
than  three  friends.  After  this,  if  he  is  still  obedient, 
he  may  enjoy  the  same  privileges  in  six  weeks'  time, 
and  after  that  once  a  month.  But  the  whole  spirit  of 
this  punishment  lies  in  its  almost  unbroken  solitude. 
The  hour's  exercise  in  the  prison  yard  must  be  taken 
without  one  word  of  speech.  The  five  hours'  associa- 
tion work  must  also  be  done  without  speech.  And  so, 
throughout  the  term,  a  convict  has  to  support  the 
burden  of  his  own  mind,  and  that  I  am  told  is  the 
worst  burden  the  mind  can  carry.  To  be  locked  up  in 
a  little  stone  cell  measuring  some  twelve  feet  by  six 
feet,  and  Hghted  by  one  small  window  heavily  barred 
and  out  of  reach,  to  have  no  paper  or  pencil  with  which 
to  write,  and  to  have  to  do  work  which  does  not  in- 
terest the  mind,  and  is  done  often  after  a  time  quite 
mechanically,  this  is  to  suffer  very  considerable  mental 
discomfort.  In  fact  it  is  a  commonplace  of  the  law 
that  a  man  who  will  take  a  flogging  without  one  whim- 
per will  go  down  on  his  hands  and  knees,  yeUing  for 
mercy,  when  sentenced  to  a  few  weeks  of  solitary 
confinement." 

Mrs.  Sterling  went  very  white  at  this,  and  Louisa 
shook  her  head  and  frowned  at  Arthur,  going  to  her 
mother-in-law,  and  saying,  "I  think  Arthur  is  exag- 
gerating a  little." 


THE  POWER  OF  DESPOTISM  229 

Arthur  said,  "Oh,  you  mustn't  think  Christopher  is 
going  to  break  down  under  it;  the  doctors  will  watch 
that." 

Mrs.  Sterling  said,  "It  is  worse  than  anything  I 
imagined." 

She  could  not  get  out  of  her  mind  the  vision  of  her 
son  sitting  in  his  cell,  with  his  hands  in  his  lap,  his 
eyes  on  the  floor.  She  saw  him  in  a  hideous  yellow 
suit  plastered  with  broad  arrows,  his  hair  cropped  close 
to  his  head,  his  face  gray  with  suffering  and  ill-health, 
sitting  there  hour  after  hour,  in  absolute  loneliness. 
She  was  the  last  person  to  be  sentimental  or  supersti- 
tious, but  she  dreamed  one  night,  seeing  him  in  this 
eternal  posture,  that  he  suddenly  raised  his  bowed  head 
and  showed  her  in  his  eyes  the  fear  of  madness ;  and 
this  dream  haunted  her  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 

But  Arthur's  description  of  hard  labor,  made  more 
effective  perhaps  by  the  detached  spirit  of  its  delivery, 
and  also  by  his  neat  black  coat,  his  dark  trousers,  his 
gaitered  boots,  and  his  general  look  of  ease  and  pros- 
perity, was  her  first  awakening  from  a  certain  som- 
nolence of  soul  which  had  fallen  upon  her  ever  since 
her  encounter  with  Jane. 

One  day  Mrs.  SterHng  was  at  tea  with  some  friends 
when  a  lady  of  the  company,  speaking  with  enthusi- 
astic delight,  told  her  how  an  officer  had  said  to  her 
that  they  were  giving  hell  to  conscientious  objectors 
in  "making  them  wish  they  had  never  been  born." 
Before  her  hostess  could  catch  her  eye,  this  happy 


230  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

person  went  on:  "Of  course  you  know  that  they  are 
taken  handcuffed  to  France,  and  shot  out  there  in 
scores.  But  that's  really  too  good  for  them.  What  / 
appreciate  is  their  treatment  over  here.  They're  locked 
up  in  prison  cells  till  they  go  mad.  Some  have  com- 
mitted suicide,  some  have  been  let  out  just  in  time  to 
die  at  home,  and  others  have  been  transferred  to 
lunatic  asylums." 

Mrs.  Sterling  said  to  herself  as  she  walked  home, 
*'I  begin  to  see  what  spirit  it  is  in  the  world  that  Chris- 
topher desires  to  overthrow." 

The  gossip  of  this  woman  was  true.  Mrs.  Sterling 
discovered  that  the  Government  was  permitting  per- 
secution, and  that  under  this  wicked  persecution  men 
had  died  and  men  had  been  driven  mad.  She  was  too 
practical  a  person  to  lose  her  head  over  this  discovery : 
she  did  not  fly  into  a  passion  or  begin  to  rage  wildly 
against  the  Government;  but  her  old  love  for  Chris- 
topher sprang  up  again  in  great  power  from  the  depths 
of  her  heart,  filling  her  soul  with  the  determination 
that  she  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  save  him. 

She  began  by  speaking  to  her  husband,  who  had 
rendered  service  to  the  Treasury  and  who  was  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  chief  ministers  of  the  Coalition 
Government.  She  told  him  something  of  what  she  had 
heard,  fearing  to  tell  him  all,  and  suggested  that  he 
should  make  inquiries  in  Downing  Street. 

Old  Mr.  Sterling  was  greatly  distressed  and  greatly 
shocked  by  what  his  wife  told  him ;  he  went  to  Down- 


THE  POWER  OF  DESPOTISM  231 

ing  Street  in  a  spirit  of  strong  indignation.  This  old 
gentleman,  who  was  so  gentle,  and  playful,  and  affec- 
tionate, became  like  a  lion  when  he  heard  of  injustice 
or  tyranny. 

The  minister  on  whom  he  called  received  him  in  the 
friendliest  fashion,  his  face  wreathed  with  smiles,  a 
sort  of  festal  jollity  showing  in  his  face.  He  shook 
hands  heartily,  cracking  a  little  joke,  and  then  invited 
Mr.  Sterling  to  be  seated.  His  face  changed  when  the 
banker  told  him  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"Ah,  that  is  a  difficult  question,"  he  said,  blinking 
his  eyelids,  pursing  his  lips,  and  shaking  his  head  over 
it,  "Personally  Fm  for  clemency.  I  don't  believe  in 
making  martyrs  of  these  young  men.  But  the  matter 
is  out  of  our  hands.  It  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the 
soldiers.    We  can  do  nothing." 

Mr.  Sterling,  sitting  there  with  a  very  intent  expres- 
sion in  his  eyes,  and  leaning  a  little  forward  to  hear 
what  the  minister  said,  started  back  and  exclaimed, 
"But  this  isn't  Germany!  We  are  not  ruled  by  our 
soldiers!"  Then,  coming  forward  again,  he  said,  "If 
wrong  has  been  done  the  guilt  is  yours;  you  are  re- 
sponsible, you  and  you  alone.  You  must  forgive  my 
plain  speaking.  I  will  never  submit  to  such  a  doctrine 
as  you  have  enunciated.  Why,  it's — ^it's — it's  treason 
to  the  constitution !" 

The  minister  replied  with  an  urbanity  that  seemed 
incongruous  to  Mr.  Sterling,  that  plain  speaking  never 
needed  an  apology;  he  then  went  on  to  explain  that 


232  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

his  colleagues  were  opposed  to  any  interference  with 
the  War  Office,  and  therefore  the  War  Office  had  this 
matter  in  their  hands  with  the  sympathy  of  the  Cabinet. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Sterling,  the  country  is  against  the 
conscientious  objector,'*  he  concluded.  "I  have  taken 
some  pains  to  acquaint  myself  with  the  state  of  public 
feeling  on  this  subject,  and  I  assure  you  that  the  coun- 
try is  dead  against  him." 

**But  is  the  country  in  favor  of  persecution?"  asked 
the  banker,  rapping  with  his  knuckles  the  table  on 
which  he  leaned.  **Does  it  wish  to  see  these  misguided 
young  men  treated  as  criminals,  and  treated  worse 
than  criminals?    Is  that  the  mind  of  England?" 

"I  would  not  say  that,"  replied  the  minister,  looking 
at  the  clock ;  "but  I  am  certain  the  country  is  satisfied 
that  the  matter  should  be  left  in  the  hands  of  the  War 
Office." 

"All  I  can  say  is  this,"  replied  Mr.  Sterling,  getting 
up:  "I  shall  not  rest,  whatever  may  be  the  conse- 
quences, till  this  scandal  to  the  good  name  of  England 
is  removed,  and  I  shall  devote  myself  to  this  work  by 
every  means  in  my  power,  however  long  it  may  take." 
He  put  out  his  hand. 

The  minister  was  impressed.  "Sit  down  for  a  mo- 
ment," he  said  persuasively,  and  taking  up  a  pen  began 
to  write.  "I'm  going  to  give  you  a  note  to  the  War 
Office,"  he  said,  writing  as  he  spoke.  "I  should  like 
you  to  see  the  people  there,  and  discuss  it  from  their 
point  of  view."    He  looked  up,  blotting  the  note  with 


THE  POWER  OF  DESPOTISM  233 


two  swift  movements  of  his  hand,  and  added,  "No- 
body will  be  better  pleased  than  myself  if  you  can 
change  their  opinion."  With  that  he  handed  the  note 
to  Mr.  Sterling,  smiling  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with 
another  glance  at  the  clock,  put  out  his  hand  in  fare- 
well. 

At  the  end  of  the  same  day  he  was  able  to  see  a 
person  of  some  authority  in  the  War  Office.  From  this 
amiable  gentleman  he  learned  that  the  matter  was  en- 
tirely in  the  hands  of  a  particular  general,  and  that 
this  particular  general  had  refused  to  budge  an  inch 
in  his  treatment  of  the  conscientious  objector,  although 
the  greatest  possible  amount  of  pressure  had  been 
brought  to  bear  upon  him. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  for  certain,"  said  this  official, 
"what  is  the  attitude  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  but  I 
have  reason  for  saying  that  nothing  on  earth  will  ever 
induce  him  to  take  the  matter  out  of  the  hands  of 
General ." 

"It  comes  to  this  then,"  said  Mr.  Sterling,  scarcely 
able  to  believe  his  ears,  "that  the  conscience  of  this 
country  is  in  the  keeping  of  a  subordinate  officer,  and 
that  tlie  civil  power  acts  as  the  office  boy  of  this 
gentleman." 

"Might  I  point  out,"  replied  the  official,  "that  all 
attempts  to  work  up  an  agitation  on  this  matter  have 
failed,  proving,  as  I  venture  to  think,  that  the  country 
approves  of  the  Government's  action?" 

"But  do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  asked  Mr.  Sterling, 


234  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair  with  the  utmost 
astonishment,  his  eyebrows  raised,  his  eyes  staring, 
"that  if  the  country  knew  what  was  being  done  to  these 
men  it  would  approve  of  such  persecution?" 
"I  think  the  country  does  know." 
"And  Fm  perfectly  certain  it  doesn't." 
While  Mr.  Sterling  was  engaged  all  that  day  in  try- 
ing to  get  at  the  Government,  Mrs.  Sterling  was  mak- 
ing her  amende  honorable  to  little  Jane.    She  did  this 
in  a  manner  characteristic  of  her  frank  and  straight- 
forward nature. 

"We  shall  never  agree  about  religion,"  she  said, 
holding  Jane's  hand  in  her  lap,  her  other  arm  round 
the  little  Quaker's  shoulder,  "and  so,  my  dear,  we  will 
never  discuss  it  again.  I  recognize  that  I  spoke  hotly 
to  you  on  the  day  of  Christopher's  arrest,  and  I  am 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  myself  for  having  done  so.  I 
said  a  great  many  things  I  do  believe,  and  also  a  great 
many  things  I  do  not  believe.  Besides,  I  spoke  much 
too  crossly  for  a  civilized  person.  I  am  very  sorry,  and 
you  must  forgive  me.  Yes,  I  know  you  do.  You're 
a  very  forgiving  spirit,  and  a  sweet  little  person  as 
well.  We  shall  understand  each  other  better  in 
future." 

She  then  told  Jane  what  Mr.  Sterling  was  about, 
and  informed  her  of  their  intention  to  work  for  Chris- 
topher's release. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Jane,  when  she  had  listened  in 
obedient  silence  to  this  narrative,  "that  Christopher 


THE  POWER  OF  DESPOTISM  235 


would  not  approve  of  your  idea.     I  have  seen  him, 
you  know,  and  had  a  letter  from  him." 

"You  have  seen  him?  How  does  he  look?" 
"Well,  he  looks,"  she  began,  her  head  going  down 
and  her  voice  trembling,  "very,  very  changed.  But," 
here  she  raised  her  head,  "his  spirit  is  quite  unbroken." 
"Did  he  tell  you  how  the  soldiers  treated  him?" 
"Yes;  he  wrote  to  me  every  day  from  the  guard- 
room before  his  court-martial.  He  said  his  escort  had 
been  most  kind  and  friendly.  The  only  rudeness  he 
encountered  was  from  the  doctor,  who  made  coarse 
jests  when  Christopher  refused  to  be  examined,  jests 
which  disconcerted  the  young  soldiers  of  the  escort. 
The  officer  commanding  at  the  depot  was  extremely 
kind  in  every  way,  and  Christopher  told  me  he  has 
been  much  struck  by  the  sympathy  and  refinement  of 
mind  he  encountered  in  all  the  senior  officers  before 
whom  he  had  to  appear." 

"Well,  Fm  glad  of  that.  Tell  me  more  about  his 
experience  in  prison." 

Jane's  voice  changed  to  a  lower  key.  "It  is  dreadful 
in  prison,"  she  replied;  "no  words  can  explain  how 
dreadful  it  is.  I  think  it  is  the  cruelest  thing  in  Eng- 
land. It  is  not  so  bad  for  Christopher,  because  he  is 
never  quite  alone,  and  he  has  always  been  used  to 
meditation.  But  it  is  terrible  for  those  unhappy  men 
who  have  lived  bad  lives  and  who  have  nothing  in  their 
souls  to  keep  them  company.  It  makes  them  worse. 
It  hardens  their  hearts.    I  am  sure  it  must  be  far  better 


236  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

in  Siberia,  where  prisoners  may  have  their  families 
with  them,  and  where  they  work  in  the  open,  under  the 
sky,  among  the  flowers,  and  with  animals  to  take  care 
of." 

"But  you  say  Christopher  looks  changed  ?" 

"So  terrible  is  the  system  that  even  he  has  felt  it," 
replied  Jane.  "It's  the  awful  solitude.  To  be  alone 
with  yourself,  for  hours  and  hours,  day  after  day,  with 
no  proper  exercise,  no  proper  food,  and  with  no  means 
of  ever  writing  down  your  thoughts,  always  in  silence, 
complete  silence — it  is  this  which  destroys  health.  It 
doesn't  destroy  Christopher's  soul.  I'm  sure  it  doesn't. 
He  begged  me  to  do  nothing  to  effect  his  release,  but 
to  work  all  the  harder  for  our  cause.  But  it  does  affect 
his  health." 

"How  does  it  affect  his  health?  I  mean  has  it 
brought  on  any  particular  illness?" 

"He  tells  me  he  suffers  from  headache  and  pains  in 
his  chest.  He  cannot  read  very  long  before  his  head 
begins  to  ache — dreadfully.  He  told  me  that  it  is  very 
difficult  to  eat  the  food.  When  he  was  first  in  prison 
he  was  told  that  if  he  worked  well  and  finished  a  cer- 
tain number  of  mats  he  would  be  given  a  cup  of  cocoa 
in  the  evening.  He  says  that  he  worked  like  a  galley 
slave  in  order  to  earn  that  benefit,  but  that  his  fingers 
become  so  lacerated  and  swollen  that  he  never  suc- 
ceeded. He  said  he  felt  so  famished  that  when  he 
found  he  had  failed  it  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to 
prevent  himself  from  weeping.    And  then  going  to  bed 


THE  POWER  OF  DESPOTISM  237 


so  hungry  he  could  not  sleep ;  you  see  he  had  no  mat- 
tress on  the  wooden  plank  until  he  had  been  there  a 
fortnight;  he  used  to  lie  awake  with  his  torn  and 
swollen  fingers  burning  like  fire  and  so  hungry  that 
his  head  ached  as  if  it  would  burst." 

"Jane,  this  is  dreadful.  We  must  work  for  his 
release." 

*T  am  sure  he  would  beg  you  not  to  do  so.  He  seems 
so  emphatic  about  that.  He  says  his  sufferings  help 
him  to  enter  into  the  far  greater  sufferings  of  Jesus, 
and  that  all  they  should  do  for  us  is  to  make  us  work 
harder  for  the  triumph  of  our  cause,  which  is  the  cause 
of  Christ." 

When  Mr.  Sterling  returned  home  and  found  Jane 
with  his  wife,  he  was  very  much  surprised,  for  he 
thought  there  was  no  hope  of  a  reconciliation  in  that 
quarter.  He  would  have  been  as  glad  as  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  them  sitting  together,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  disappointment  and  indignation  which  filled  his 
mind. 

He  greeted  Jane,  however,  with  kindness,  if  not  with 
warmth,  and  then  began  to  tell  of  his  experiences  with 
State  officials.  At  the  end  of  this  narrative  he  said, 
"I  shall  write  a  letter  to  the  papers,  and  if  that  is  not 
a  success  I  shall  get  questions  asked  in  the  House  of 
Commons." 

When  his  wife  told  him  that  Jane  thought  Chris- 
topher would  be  opposed  to  such  efforts,  the  old  gentle- 
man replied,  "On  my  honor  I  am  not  thinking  of 


238  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

Christopher.  I  am  not  sure  I  am  thinking  of  any  of 
these  young  men,  I  am  thinking  of  the  good  name  of 
my  country." 

He  learned  an  exceedingly  bitter  lesson  during  the 
next  few  weeks.  Most  of  the  newspapers  rejected  his 
letter :  those  which  did  publish  it  cut  it  down  to  a  few 
lines,  put  into  small  print,  and  placed  it  where  no  one 
was  likely  to  see  it.  He  called  on  the  editors  of  one 
or  two  Liberal  newspapers  and  reviews,  and  came 
away  with  the  impression  that  Liberalism,  if  not  dead 
in  England,  was  at  any  rate  moribund.  He  encountered 
no  one  really  willing  to  risk  circulation  or  personal 
popularity  by  advocating  the  cause  of  these  persecuted 
Quakers,  not  even  among  those  editors  who  most  fur- 
iously assailed  Germany  for  her  persecutions  in  Bel- 
gium and  Serbia. 

He  was  not  more  successful  among  politicians.  He 
found  two  or  three  who  shared  his  views,  and  who 
promised  to  do  something  in  the  matter  "when  occasion 
offered,"  but  for  the  most  part  members  of  Parliament 
replied  that  questions  in  the  House  only  led  to  a  fresh 
crusade  for  persecution  from  the  jingo  newspapers, 
while  some,  hitherto  famous  for  their  philanthropy, 
told  him  point-blank  that  they  had  no  sympathy  what- 
ever with  these  miserable  faddists. 

Jane  brought  good  news  to  Portman  Square  during 
this  crusade.  She  had  heard  from  Christopher,  telling 
her  it  was  almost  as  good  as  certain  that  he  would  earn 
a  reduction  of  eighteen  days  from  his  sentence. 


THE  POWER  OF  DESPOTISM  239 


"Of  course,"  said  Jane,  "the  military  authorities  will 
take  him  again  when  his  full  sentence  is  over,  but  he 
says  we  shall  have  these  eighteen  days  together  and 
that  makes  him  happy  in  waiting  for  the  time  to  pass." 

This  news  led  Mr.  Sterling  to  abandon  his  efforts 
for  the  time,  although  he  was  just  on  the  point  of 
writing  letters  to  the  archbishops  and  bishops,  asking 
them  to  make  a  church  protest  against  this  scandalous 
persecution  of  religious  people  on  the  part  of  the  State. 
He  thought  it  would  be  best  to  discuss  the  whole  matter 
with  Christopher. 

Eighteen  days  before  the  expiry  of  his  sentence, 
Mrs.  Sterling  and  Jane,  who  had  spent  the  night  before 
in  a  local  hotel,  drove  to  the  prison  gates,  and  telling 
the  cabman  to  wait  for  them,  went  inside  to  welcome 
Christopher  and  to  carry  him  away. 

When  she  saw  him,  his  mother  could  not  repress  a 
cry — so  emaciated  was  he,  so  gray,  so  bowed,  so 
broken.  He  smiled  at  sight  of  her,  and  put  out  both 
his  hands,  and  exclaimed  in  a  hoarse  voice,  "This  is 
better  than  I  expected!" 

After  they  had  greeted,  he  said  to  his  mother,  "I 
hope  you  didn't  think  me  rude  for  keeping  on  my  hat. 
I  thought  you  would  hate  to  see  my  cropped  head.  I 
expect  I  look  hideously  ugly." 

"Nothing  matters  now  weVe  got  you,"  she  replied. 

"Eighteen  days  of  the  sky  and  the  air,  and  the  living 
world  1"  he  exclaimed ;  "isn't  it  splendid  ? — isn't  it  too 
good  to  be  true?" 


240  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

They  passed  out  of  the  gate,  Christopher  in  the  mid- 
dle, the  women  with  a  hand  through  his  arms,  he  look- 
ing first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other,  so  glad  to  have 
them  near  him,  so  happy  to  be  free. 

"When  the  war  is  over,"  he  said,  "we  must  work 
to  change  our  prison  system :  it*s  so  silly,  and  so  cruel. 
I  think  God  let  me  go  to  prison  that  I  might." 

A  corporal  stepped  up  to  him,  a  paper  in  one  hand, 
a  rifle  in  the  other.  Two  private  soldiers,  carrying 
arms,  were  standing  by  the  cab. 

"Are  you  Private  Sterling?"  asked  the  corporal. 

"My  name  is  Christopher  Sterling." 

"I  arrest  you  as  an  absentee,"  said  the  corporal,  and 
with  a  movement  of  the  hand  summoned  the  guard. 

As  they  marched  up,  Mrs.  Sterling  exclaimed :  "But 
you  can't  arrest  him !    His  sentence  is  not  yet  served  1" 

Christopher  said  to  her,  "The  Army  can  do  any- 
thing." 

"It  is  monstrous!"  said  Mrs.  Sterling.  "It  is  in- 
famous!" she  cried,  and  her  face  was  white  with  in- 
dignation. 

Jane  clung  to  Christopher's  arm,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot.  He  turned  to  her,  bent  down  his  head, 
and  whispered,  "Kiss  me,  little  Jane,  and  be  very 
strong  and  very  patient." 

"Fall  in!"  said  the  corporal.  And  then,  "Quick 
march  1" 


CHAPTER  XII 


LAST  WORDS 


CHRISTOPHER'S  second  court-martial  resulted 
in  a  sentence  of  two  years'  hard  labor.  This 
time  there  was  no  commutation.  He  would  have  to 
serve  the  full  sentence — the  extremest  form  of  punish- 
ment meted  out  by  English  law  to  the  most  determined 
criminals. 

Furthermore,  contrary  to  the  spirit  and  custom  of 
English  law,  he  was  being  more  severely  punished  than 
ever  in  his  previous  sentence  for  one  and  the  same 
offence. 

While  he  was  serving  this  sentence  James  came 
home  on  four  days'  leave  from  the  front,  and  spent 
almost  every  moment  of  the  time  in  working  for  his 
brother's  release.  He  saw  ministers  and  politicians, 
professors,  writers,  bishops  and  clergymen.  He  re- 
ceived sympathy,  but  no  help.  He  learned  in  confi- 
dence from  a  noble  scholar  that  a  petition  was  to  be 
drawn  up  and  presented  to  the  Prime  Minister,  and 
that  until  this  was  done  the  cause  he  had  at  heart  would 
best  be  served  by  silence.  He  gathered  that  every  sym- 
pathizer was  afraid  of  the  newspapers.     The  great 

241 


242  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

dread  was  a  campaign  on  the  part  of  the  press  aimed 
to  intimidate  those  who  might  otherwise  sign  the 
petition. 

On  the  last  night  of  his  stay  in  England,  James  said 
to  his  mother,  "They  tell  us  we  are  fighting  Anti-Christ 
in  Germany,  but  here  in  England  they  have  taken 
Christ  and  put  him  in  prison." 

He  said  to  his  father  and  mother,  "Work  for  Chris- 
topher's release.  I  believe  it  is  right  for  me  to  fight 
against  the  Germans.  I  believe  it  is  right  for  Chris- 
topher to  stand  out  against  war.  And  of  this  I  am 
more  certain  than  of  anything  else  that  Christopher  is 
as  near  to  the  heart  of  Christ  as  the  very  worst  of  the 
Germans  is  far  away  from  it.  War  is  hell.  Believe 
nothing  you  read  in  the  newspapers  about  our  cheer- 
fulness at  the  front.  There's  not  a  man  there  who 
doesn't  loathe  war  from  the  very  depths  of  his  soul, 
and  when  men  are  free  to  write  the  truth  about  it  the 
whole  world  will  loathe  it  too." 

To  Mrs.  Sterling  every  word  uttered  by  James  was 
charged  with  a  meaning  which  clung  to  the  beatings 
of  her  heart.  Each  parting  from  this  well-beloved  son 
was  an  agony ;  every  time  he  left  her  she  was  sensible 
of  a  greater  and  a  colder  loneliness.  Christopher  had 
come  back  to  her,  but  there  was  room  in  her  heart 
for  both  these  sons. 

She  began  to  wonder  whether  there  was  not  also 
room  in  her  heart  for  the  two  moraHties  of  Christ — 
for  the  morality  of  the  saint,  and  for  the  morality  of 


if 

the  knisrht 


LAST  WORDS  243 


ieKnight-errant.  Although  she  found  it  impossible 
to  regard  the  Christ  of  the  churches  with  any  feeling 
of  reality,  she  came  more  and  more  to  be  conscious 
of  a  reality  which  had  escaped  her  in  Jesus. 

There  were  times  when  it  flashed  into  her  mind  that 
perhaps  Jesus  was  right,  that  perhaps,  in  very  truth, 
the  one  way  out  of  the  miseries  of  the  world  was  the 
way  which  he  had  trodden — the  way  of  Love,  a  love 
changing  the  heart  of  man,  transcending  his  human 
nature,  a  love  which  really  did  believe  in  God,  a  love 
which  really  did  reach  out  so  wondrous  far  as  to  in- 
clude a  man's  neighbor. 

She  was  too  old  to  change,  too  set  and  efficient  to 
leap  forward  with  a  heart  of  faith  into  the  light  of  a 
new  vision ;  but  the  thought  of  Jesus  as  a  Reality,  the 
thought  of  his  teaching  as  the  Truth,  haunted  her 
thoughts  and  would  not  let  her  rest. 

She  was  further  influenced  in  this  direction  by  a 
deeper  intimacy  with  Jane.  After  the  second  arrest 
of  Christopher,  and  again  after  the  brief  interruption 
of  James's  leave,  she  cultivated  the  society  of  Jane 
with  an  affection  and  a  respect  which  increased  as 
intimacy  ripened.  She  used  to  go  down  to  the  tene- 
ment, and  would  there  take  part  in  the  humble  ritual 
of  Jane's  life,  mixing  with  the  neighbors,  learning  to 
see  life  from  their  angle  of  vision,  admiring  them  for 
their  courage,  marveling  at  their  virtues,  and  under- 
standing how  Christopher  had  loved  to  give  himself 
to  these  brothers  and  sisters,  these  multitudinous  chil- 


244  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

dren  of  England  and  of  God.  She  got  out  of  the  habit 
of  calling  them  "the  poor,"  and  never  used  the  word 
"slum,"  which  Christopher  and  Jane  both  held  as  a 
harmful  effect  upon  the  people  who  live  in  working- 
class  quarters.  She  did  not  speak,  as  Christopher  and 
Jane  spoke,  of  "the  oppressed,"  but  she  called  them 
"our  neighbors,"  which  was  a  considerable  advance 
towards  the  standpoint  of  her  son. 

One  dark  night,  returning  from  a  visit  to  Jane,  she 
was  groping  her  way  to  the  front  door  of  the  house  in 
Portman  Square  when  the  voice  of  her  husband  called 
to  her  from  a  few  paces  away. 

"Anthony!"  she  exclaimed,  peering  into  the  dark- 
ness ;  "is  that  you  ?  Why,  what  on  earth  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"I've  been  waiting  for  you,"  he  said.  "Give  me  your 
hand." 

"But  where  are  you  going?"  she  asked. 

"Let  us  take  a  little  walk,"  he  replied;  "just  once 
round  the  square.    Slip  your  hand  through  my  arm." 

They  had  taken  but  a  step  into  the  darkness  when 
her  heart  froze  with  the  very  coldness  of  death. 

She  stopped,  and  pressing  his  arm  with  her  hand 
almost  angrily,  said,  "You've  had  news  —  from 
France  ?" 

"Let  us  walk,  my  dear,  let  us  walk,"  he  said,  his 
voice  shaking. 

She  pressed  closer  to  his  side,  walking  forward  with 
him,  and  asked,  "Is  it  of  James?" 


LAST  WORDS  245 

There  was  a  long  time  before  he  replied.  Then  he 
said,  "Yes,  dear,  news  of  James." 

It  was  wonderful  how  all  the  tumult  of  agony  in 
her  heart,  all  the  panic  of  apprehension,  left  her  at  a 
stroke. 

"Is  he  wounded?"  she  asked,  "or  is  it  worse  than 
that?" 

Her  voice  was  quite  even  and  controlled. 
She  waited  aching  for  the  answer.    No  answer  came. 
She  felt  the  arm  of  her  husband  shake  violently  as 
though  with  a  palsy,  then  she  heard  him  weeping  and 
sobbing.    He  walked  faster,  fighting  down  his  sobs. 

She  said  to  him,  "There  is  no  word  for  this, 
Anthony." 

A  burst  of  sobbing  came  from  the  old  man. 
She  said,  "We  must  be  brave.    We  must  hold  our 
heads  up." 

"My  Partner !"  he  exclaimed.  "My  darling  precious 
angel  Boy — my  Partner!" 

The  greatness  of  his  grief  helped  the  mother  to  con- 
trol her  own. 

"I  am  glad  you  told  me  in  the  dark,"  she  said  quietly. 
"It  was  kind  of  you,  Anthony,  to  wait  for  me.  I  hope, 
my  dear,  you  have  not  taken  cold.  Let  us  go  back 
now.  I  am  quite  ready  to  face  things.  How  long  had 
you  been  waiting  for  me  ?" 

"I  forget,  I  forget.  A  long  time,  Elizabeth,  every 
moment  of  it  a  memory  which  broke  my  heart  into 
pieces.    I  felt  I  could  not  take  you  indoors.    I  thought 


^6  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

perhaps  I  could  do  it  easier  in  the  dark.  Don't  let  us 
go  in  for  a  minute.  I  shan't  take  cold.  Let  us  walk 
round  the  square  for  a  little  longer,  and  talk  about  it 
till  we're  used  to  it.  I  don't  think  I  could  look  in  your 
eyes  quite  yet." 

The  death  of  James  Sterling,  that  most  gallant  sol- 
dier, who  fought  always  with  fear  at  his  heart,  nausea 
in  his  brain,  and  an  effort  in  his  soul  which  only  the 
purest  devotion  can  understand,  plunged  the  small 
struggling  light  of  his  mother's  faith  into  black  dark- 
ness. 

Everything  in  that  faith  drifted  away  and  became 
unreal  to  her — the  thought  of  a  God  who  literally  cared 
for  humanity,  the  thought  of  Jesus  as  a  serious  person 
in  the  evolution  of  mankind,  the  thought  of  Christo- 
pher's life  and  Jane's  life  as  a  contribution  to  the  des- 
tiny of  the  world ;  these  drifted  away  like  phantoms. 

All  was  unreal  beside  the  immeasurable  reality  of 
this  awful  death. 

He  had  left  among  his  papers  two  letters  written  six 
months  before  he  was  killed,  one  for  his  mother  and 
one  for  his  father.  To  his  father  he  expressed  grati- 
tude for  all  the  love  which  had  been  poured  into  his 
heart  from  earliest  childhood,  speaking  of  his  father's 
"lavish  generosity  and  quite  wonderful  self -abnegating 
love,"  thanking  him  for  all  this  ^'splendor  of  love,"  say- 
ing that  it  was  for  this  he  was  so  glad  to  die,  if  God 
willed.  He  begged  his  father  not  to  mourn  for  him, 
and  concluded: 


LAST  WORDS  247 

**When  the  war's  over,  Langton  will  have  had 
his  fill  of  soldiering,  and  I  would  suggest  that  you 
take  him  in  the  bank.    He's  as  fine  a  specimen  as 
I  have  never  met  of  what  we  call  the  English  gen- 
tleman— so  unassuming,  so  fearless,  so  direct  and 
firm,  so  cleanly  moral,  so  sensible  of  duty.    And 
since  Christopher's  renunciation  he  is  your  eldest 
son.    Take  him  into  the  bank  and  love  him  as  you 
have  loved  me.    I  shall  still  be  somewhere  about, 
waiting  to  ask  you  how  the  War  Loan  stands,  and 
to  inquire  if  the  quantity  theory  of  money  has 
made  more  converts.    Think  of  me  as  alive,  think 
of  me  as  waiting  for  you,  think  of  me  as  your 
sleeping  partner." 
The  package  which  enclosed  the  letter  to  his  mother 
contained  a  sheaf  of  poems  which  he  had  written  in 
France.    He  asked  her  to  read  them  and  if  she  thought 
they  were  "fairly  good"  to  publish  them:  "for,"  he 
said,  "they  express  all  that  burning  part  of  me  which 
is  so  willing  to  die  for  England,  though  my  knees  may 
knock,  and  my  face  go  as  white  as  the  snow  on  the 
parapet."    He  went  on  to  say: 

"I  want  these  poems  to  be  an  answer,  so  far 
as  they  can,  to  the  cynic  who  will  say  in  years  to 
come  that  England  went  into  this  war  for  base 
motives,  and  that  the  neutrality  of  Belgium  was 
only  an  excuse  for  her  to  attack  the  most  danger- 
ous of  her  trade  rivals.  I  don't  say  that  politicians 
may  not  have  had  some  such  idea  as  this:  but 


'248  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

politicians  have  not  done  the  fighting.    England  in 
this  war  is  represented  by  her  young  men,  and 
those  young  men,  I'll  stake  my  life  for  it,  have 
had  no  cunning  lie  in  their  souls  from  first  to  last. 
They  have  given  their  lives,  and  suffered  many 
terrible  things,  for  the  noblest  ideals  of  man's  soul 
— for  liberty,  for  justice,  for  kindness,  for  chiv- 
alry towards  women  and  children,  for  a  better 
world.    For  our  own  cause  is  summed  up  in  the 
word  England — and  this  word  includes  you,  my 
mother,  who  brought  me  into  the  world,  shielded 
me  from  all  baseness,  led  me  to  love  beautiful 
things,  and  filled  my  heart  to  overflowing  with 
the  rapture  of  life.    I  have  been  so  glad  to  live. 
I  have  enjoyed  life  more  than  language  can  ex- 
press.   And  now  I  am  quite  ready  to  die;  and  if 
my  death,  as  I  pray  it  may  be,  is  a  quick  death 
and  a  clean,  most  contentedly  will  my  spirit  pass 
on  to  the  next  stage  of  God's  existence,  there  to 
wait  for  you  with  both  arms  stretched  wide  till 
you  come." 
In  this  letter  there  were  a  few  lines  about  Chris- 
topher, reiterating  James's  faith  that  there  are  two 
moralities,  and  avowing  his  conviction  that  he  and 
Christopher  were  fighting  for  the  same  victory.    "The 
Government,"  he  said,  ''insists  on  treating  Christopher 
as  steel,  and  would  hammer  him  into  their  shape ;  but 
Christopher  is  the  leaven  of  Christ." 

For  three  months  Mrs.  Sterling  shut  herself  from 


LAST  WORDS  249 

the  world.  The  light  of  her  faith  was  almost  extin- 
guished, and  she  walked  in  a  darkness  which  she  wel- 
comed because  it  seemed  to  isolate  her  from  mankind. 
She  could  not  have  borne  in  that  darkness  the  little 
tapers  of  consolation  which  a  host  of  friends  were  so 
eager  to  place  into  her  hands.  She  read  none  of  the 
letters  which  reached  her.  At  King's  Standing  she 
went  about  the  fields  and  gardens,  remembering  the 
days  that  were  gone ;  in  London  she  was  always  in  his 
room,  opening  cupboards,  lifting  blinds,  pulling  out 
drawers,  handling  the  things  which  had  belonged  to 
him,  things  which  he  had  touched  or  worn.  She  took 
elaborate  pains  to  see  that  his  posthumous  poems 
should  be  beautifully  published. 

Outwardly  she  was  perfectly  calm,  going  about  her 
business  as  of  yore ;  while  she  was  in  Surrey  she  super- 
intended, with  all  her  old  capacity,  some  quite  consider- 
able alterations  in  the  gardens,  entering  into  the  details 
with  a  thoroughness  of  interest  which  seemed  as  if  she 
thought  of  nothing  else.  She  astonished  her  husband 
by  her  self-control.  He  came  to  look  at  her  with  a  new 
admiration,  a  new  reverence.  He  told  himself  again 
and  again  that  she  was  wonderful,  more  so  than  he 
had  ever  imagined  her  to  be. 

Her  chief  anxiety  seemed  to  be  about  Sibyl  in  York- 
shire, who  was  almost  distracted  by  the  thought  that 
war  might  not  be  over  before  her  eldest  boy  was  of 
military  age.  If  Mrs.  Sterling  was  concerned  about 
anything  one  would  have  said  it  was  her  daughter. 


2S0  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

The  truth  is  that  darkness  and  despair  have  a  certain 
great  strength  of  their  own,  and  that  negation  can  bear 
itself  more  staunchly  in  the  face  of  calamity  than  a 
faith  which  is  merely  an  inspiration. 

Mrs.  Sterling  told  herself  that  James  was  dead,  dead 
for  ever.  She  did  not  look  to  see  him  again.  She  did 
not  believe  that  he  existed  in  any  form  or  in  any  place. 
The  child  of  her  body  was  as  dead  as  the  roses  of  sum- 
mer, dead  as  the  dogs  whose  gravestones  were  in  the 
shrubbery  behind  the  stables,  dead  as  everything  which 
had  once  lived  and  then  had  died. 

There  was  no  room  here  for  a  broken  heart.  In  her 
darkness  one  had  only  to  go  on,  expecting  nothing, 
hoping  for  nothing,  just  doing  one's  duty  and  hiding 
one's  useless  pain. 

A  letter  from  Jane,  while  she  was  busy  with  her 
garden  in  Surrey,  reminded  her  of  a  duty  she  had  neg- 
lected. Jane  wrote  to  say  that  in  the  following  week 
she  was  going  to  see  Christopher  in  prison,  and  asked 
if  Mrs.  Sterling  would  like  to  go  down  with  her.  The 
letter  concluded,  "I  have  never  mentioned  anything  to 
him  about  dear  James,  and  I  will  leave  it  to  you 
whether  he  should  be  told  next  week  by  you,  or  by 
time." 

Mrs.  Sterling  decided  that  she  would  go  and  see 
Christopher,  and  that  he  should  not  be  told  about 
James's  death. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED 

ON  their  way  down  in  the  train,  Mrs.  Sterling 
asked  Jane  to  tell  her  what  she  knew  about 
Christopher,  saying,  "I  fear  I  have  been  selfish  these 
last  few  months." 

Jane  replied  that  her  mother-in-law  must  prepare 
herself  for  a  great  change  in  Christopher's  appearance. 
She  said :  "He  is  condemned  to  spend  the  whole  of  this 
sentence  in  solitary  confinement,  and  although  his  spirit 
is  not  shaken  in  the  least,  his  body  is  breaking  down 
under  it." 

Mrs.  Sterling  was  horrified  by  this  disclosure. 

"Christopher  is  making  a  stand,"  said  Jane,  "against 
prison  rules.  When  the  first  month  of  solitary  confine- 
ment had  passed,  and  he  was  permitted  to  work  with 
other  prisoners,  instead  of  whispering  to  them  furtively 
when  the  warder's  back  was  turned  and  as  the  other 
prisoners  do  he  spoke  in  his  natural  voice  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  warder.  For  this  offence  he  was  taken 
before  the  governor.  He  explained  to  the  governor 
that  the  prison  rule  of  silence  teaches  men  to  be  decep- 
tive, because  they  must  speak  and  so  they  speak  in 

251 


252  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

whispers  when  no  one  is  looking,  which  is  morally  bad 
for  them.  The  governor  was  extremely  kind;  he  al- 
most begged  Christopher  to  do  as  the  others  do;  he 
said  he  did  not  want  to  punish  him,  but  that  if  he  spoke 
aloud  he  would  be  obliged  to  do  so,  which  would  mean 
keeping  him  in  solitary  confinement.  Christopher 
thanked  him  for  his  sympathetic  attitude,  but  said  he 
could  not  practice  deception,  and  must  make  his  protest 
against  an  inhuman  regulation." 

Jane  opened  her  bag  and  took  out  a  letter  she  had 
received  from  Christopher,  handing  it  to  Mrs.  Sterling. 
"There  is  a  passage  here,"  she  said,  pointing  it  out  in 
the  letter,  "which  shows  how  wonderfully  his  spirit  is 
supporting  this  dreadful  torture." 

The  passage  she  referred  to,  which  made  a  great  im- 
pression on  Mrs.  Sterling,  ran  as  follows : 

"It  is  very  difficult,  but  I  find  it  becomes  easier 
as  I  make  the  effort,  to  love  our  enemies,  to  love 
those  who  apparently  hate  God  and  live  in  de- 
fiance of  his  laws.  The  Germans  have  done  such 
terrible  things.  They  have  brought  upon  the 
world  this  awful  calamity.  They  have  sown  the 
seed  of  hatred  over  the  whole  field  of  Europe. 
They  have  degraded  human  nature.  And  with 
this,  they  still  make  use  of  God's  name,  and  drag 
down  the  holiness  of  heaven  to  serve  their  prop- 
aganda of  hate.  But  I  have  lately  been  trying  to 
see  the  Germany  that  God  sees,  the  Germany 
which  the  Divine  Father  has  included  in  the  fam- 


r 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       253 

ily  of  mankind,  and  for  which  our  Saviour  was 
content  to  die — the  Germany  of  children  and  toys, 
of  fairy  stories  and  Christmas  festivals,  of  beauti- 
ful legends  and  lovely  music,  of  frugal  domestic 
happiness  and  moral  earnestness.    When  I  think 
of  this  Germany  I  see  how  foolish  is  our  propa- 
ganda of  hate,  how  foolish  and  how  wicked ;  and 
I  also  see  how  the  future  peace  of  the  world  must 
depend  upon  the  propaganda  of  love  in  each  coun- 
try— such  a  propaganda  as  the  Emergency  Com- 
mittee is  doing  here  in  England  by  their  work 
of  mercy,  and  the  Quakers  in  Germany  are  doing 
there  in  ministering  so  kindly  and  lovingly  to  our 
English  people  living  in  their  midst.    You  will  see 
how  true  this  is,  if  you  imagine  what  the  state  of 
the  world  would  now  be  were  all  our  English 
newspapers  and  all  their  German  newspapers  tell- 
ing people  of  the  love  and  kindness  which  exist  in 
each  country.    Only  a  little  imagination  is  needed 
to  show  that  a  propaganda  of  hate  is  of  the  Devil, 
and  that  a  propaganda  of  love  is  of  Christ." 
After  she  had  read  these  words,  Mrs.  Sterling  closed 
her  eyes,  and  for  some  minutes  remained  so  quietly  in 
thought  that  Jane  imagined  she  was  sleeping.     But 
presently  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  handed  back  the 
letter,  looking  at  Jane  with  a  new  and  penetrating 
interest. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  "if  he  is  right  after  all?    Per- 
haps he  is.    It  is  possible.    Who  shall  decide?" 


2S4  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

When  they  had  traveled  some  distance,  Jane  opened 
her  bag  once  more  and  took  out  a  little  brown  book, 
passing  it  to  Mrs.  Sterling.  "1  think  you  might  like 
to  look  at  this,"  she  said ;  "it  is  compiled  by  the  mother 
of  Stephen  Hobhouse,  who  is  also  in  prison;  it  is  an 
appeal  for  justice." 

Mrs.  Sterling  took  the  pamphlet;  it  was  called,  "I 
Appeal  Unto  Csesar,"  and  sitting  back  in  her  corner  of 
the  carriage,  began  to  read  it. 

The  first  thing  that  struck  her  was  a  sentence  in  the 
Introduction,  written  by  Professor  Gilbert  Murray, 
who  disclaimed  sympathy  with  the  pacifist  arguments 
of  conscientious  objectors.  The  sentence  ran:  'The 
main  question  which  concerns  our  honor  as  a  nation, 
is  whether  we  wish  to  act  like  sensible  men  or  like 
angry  fanatics — without  any  excuse  for  fanaticism." 
This  seemed  to  her  the  sensible  position.  Then  she 
came  across  the  words :  "  .  .  .  these  men  have  by  the 
plain  intention  of  the  Act  a  right  to  total  exemption, 
the  whole  of  their  punishment  is  in  spirit  illegal." 

She  reflected  on  these  words.  "Yes,"  she  told  her- 
self, "their  punishment  is  illegal  and  that  punishment 
is  persecution." 

Then  she  read  of  brutality  on  the  part  of  soldiers  to 
these  defenceless  victims. 

"I  have  received  by  this  morning's  post  (June 
30)  the  accounts  of  one  man,  an  intended  mis- 
sionary, dead  in  hospital,  another  dead  in  a  lunatic 
asylum,  as  the  result  of  this  secret  bullying;  and 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       255 


r 

^m    a  third  being  subjected  to  a  well-known  form  of 
mediaeval  torture.    This  man  is  imprisoned  in  a 
deep  and  narrow  hole,  too  small  for  sitting  down, 
not  to  speak  of  lying,  with  no  roof  overhead  and 
water  at  the  bottom,  covered  by  two  planks." 
Another  passage  that  remained  in  her  mind  was  this : 
"However  wrongheaded,  conceited,  self-right- 
eous, and  unpatriotic,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  the 
objectors  may  originally  have  seemed  to  us,  the 
long  and  fruitless  and  illegal  persecution  of  these 
men  leaves  on  the  coldest  observer  an  impression 
of  some  moral  heroism  on  the  side  of  the  culprits 
and  some  moral  and  intellectual  vileness  on  the 
side  of  the  oppressors." 
She  looked  up  and  said  to  Jane,  **Yes,  that  is  the 
impression  it  leaves  —  the  impression  of  moral  and 
intellectual  vileness  on  the  side  of  their  oppressors — 
vileness,  horrible  and  un-English  vileness." 

But  the  greatest  effect  produced  upon  her  mind  by 
this  pamphlet  came  from  the  letters  of  men  in  prison, 
men  like  her  own  son,  letters  which  helped  her  to 
realize  what  Christopher  was  suffering  under  our  in- 
famous prison  system.  She  read  two  letters  which 
haunted  her  mind  long  after  she  had  closed  the  book, 
and  which  came  between  her  and  her  sleep  that  night 
when  she  lay  down  in  the  bedroom  of  her  hotel.  These 
were  the  letters  she  read : 

"One  hundred  and  ninety-five  days  of  stitching, 
each  of   twenty-three  hours  and   fifty   minutes' 


256  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

silence.  I  think  the  greatest  torture  of  enforced 
and  perpetual  silence  is  the  never-ceasing  cons- 
ciousness of  thinking  in  which  it  results.  You 
cannot  stop  thinking  for  an  instant.  And  if  you 
seem  to,  it  is  only  to  listen  intently  to  the  beating 
of  your  heart  drumming  in  your  ears.  You  cannot 
escape  thinking  about  the  most  trivial  matters  of 
routine.  I  think  of  the  very  knots  in  the  boards 
each  time  I  scrub  them,  until  I  could  scratch  them 
out  of  the  floor  to  rid  myself  of  their  arrogant 
insistence  upon  themselves.  One  inevitable  result 
is  a  consequent  and  hopeless  inability  to  think  of 
those  very  things  that  are  your  interest,  and  would 
stimulate  and  hearten  you  .  .  .  And  then  I  seem 
to  have  no  way  of  escape  from  dwelling  upon  the 
horror  of  the  war,  and  just  because  I  cannot  be 
active,  my  imagination  is  the  more  vivid,  until  I 
am  driven  almost  to  the  breaking  point  of  despair 
by  thinking  of  all  the  agony  of  the  world  .   .   . 

"I  have  seen  a  man  go  raving  mad  in  the  prison 
after  being  shut  up  in  a  warm  cell  from  4  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  until  6  o'clock  next  morning.  The 
cells  are  very  badly  ventilated ;  the  one  I  was  in 
had  all  the  windows  fastened  down  so  that  they 
were  a  fixture.  Some  cells  have  got  two  little 
windows  out  but  some  have  not,  and  it  gets  very 
"hot  in  there;  especially  when  the  sun  is  beating 
in,  it  gets  unbearable.  I  have  seen  cell  doors 
opened  in  the  morning  and  the  men  stretched  out 


r 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       257 

on  the  floor  in  fits  or  fainting,  and  the  warders 
do  not  take  any  notice  of  them  but  simply  pass  on 
and  leave  the  door  open.    It  really  is  very  brutal. 
Men  in  the  first  stage  are  kept  in  the  cell  and  not 
let  out,  only  for  three  quarter-hours  early  in  the 
morning  from  8.15  to  9  o'clock,  and  it  is  more 
than  you  dare  ask  to  go  out  of  your  cell  for  any- 
thing for  the  first  month,  so  you  can  just  tell  what 
it  is  like  to  be  so  closely  confined  this  hot  weather."^ 
On  the  next  day,  haunted  by  what  she  had  read  and 
suflFering  from  her  sleepless  night,  Mrs.  Sterling  drove 
with  Jane  to  the  prison  for  their  interview  with  Chris- 
topher.   She  was  quite  silent  during  this  drive,  sitting 
forward  on  her  seat,  looking  out  of  the  window  of  the 
cab  with  her  face  turned  away  from  Jane,  never  alter- 
ing her  position  till  the  prison  was  reached. 

Jane  thought  that  perhaps  she  dreaded  the  experi- 
ence of  a  first  visit  to  a  jail,  and  took  her  arm  as  they 
passed  through  the  gateway.  But  Mrs.  Sterling 
walked  firmly,  and  when  she  spoke  it  was  in  her  usual 
tones. 

When  they  entered  the  visiting-room,  she  was  aston- 
ished and  indignant  at  the  arrangements  she  found 
there,  so  that  she  cried  out,  "This  is  monstrous,  in- 
famous, abominable !    But  what  does  it  mean  ?" 

The  room  was  divided  into  three  compartments,  or 
cages,  by  strong  closely-woven  wire  netting.  The 
visitors  were  in  the  first  cage  looking  into  the  other 
cages  beyond  them,  each  with  a  door  in  the  wall. 


258  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

Jane  said,  "He  will  come  into  the  farthest  cage,  and 
a  warder  will  sit  between  him  and  us  in  the  center  cage, 
and  Christopher  will  talk  to  us  through  the  wires." 

She  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  a  door  ad- 
mitting to  the  cage  farthest  away  from  them  was  sud- 
denly opened  and  Christopher  appeared  there,  a  warder 
almost  immediately  making  his  entrance  into  the  cen- 
tral cage. 

The  light  in  the  room  was  dim ;  the  double  thickness 
of  wire  netting  had  the  effect  of  gauze ;  it  was  not  easy 
to  see  with  clearness. 

It  may  be  that  Mrs.  Sterling's  nerves,  after  her 
great  shock  of  three  months  ago,  were  unstrung,  that 
her  past  knowledge  of  her  son's  condition  had  added 
to  this  state,  and  that  this  novel  and  disconcerting  ex- 
perience of  a  first  prison  visit  was  a  final  strain  upon 
those  suffering  nerves;  but  whatever  the  cause  may 
have  been,  seeing  Christopher  approach  through  the 
gloom  to  the  wires  of  his  cage,  a  feeling  of  extraordi- 
nary uncanniness  overwhelmed  her  whole  nature,  fill- 
ing her  heart  with  a  sense  of  great  awe,  so  that  her 
body  shook  and  her  spirit  was  paralyzed. 

She  felt,  as  she  stood  there,  gazing  through  the  wire, 
that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  Jesus. 

She  felt  that  this  same  great  awe  which  held  her 
whole  being  must  have  been  known  to  all  those  who 
stood  for  the  first  time  in  the  presence  of  Jesus.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  she  watched  this  approaching  figure 
through  the  mist  of  the  wire,  that  one  had  come  to  her 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       ^59 

from  another  world,  one  whose  thoughts  were  not  as 
her  thoughts,  whose  ways  were  not  as  her  ways,  whose 
ears  had  heard  the  voice  and  whose  eyes  had  seen  the 
glory  of  God. 

The  repulsiveness  of  his  prison  garments,  with  his 
number  at  the  breast,  did  not  strike  her ;  nor  was  she 
conscious  of  his  cropped  head  and  unshaven  face — not 
even  of  the  frightful  weakness  of  his  body.  She  was 
aware  only  of  his  eyes.  Into  those  eyes,  looking  at  her 
through  the  wires,  she  gazed  fascinated  and  awed,  un- 
able to  speak,  held  spell-bound  by  some  power  within 
them  which  seemed  to  be  not  of  this  earth. 

A  brightness  came  into  his  eyes  when  he  recognized 
his  mother.  He  said,  "This  is  great  happiness,  great 
happiness!"  His  voice  was  very  low,  like  a  hoarse 
whisper,  and  yet  had  a  deep  ring  which  made  it  vibrate 
through  the  room. 

He  looked  at  his  wife  and  said,  "How  glad  I  am  to 
see  you,"  smiling  at  her.  Then  he  turned  again  to 
look  at  his  mother.  For  a  moment  he  was  silent,  Mrs. 
Sterling  could  hear  the  beating  of  her  heart.  "You 
are  in  mourning?"  he  inquired. 

She  had  forgotten  that.  The  shock  of  this  question 
helped  her  to  the  recovery  of  her  faculties. 

"I  have  bad  news,  Christopher,"  she  managed  to  say ; 
her  voice  was  lower  than  his,  about  as  hoarse.  She 
fought  for  control,  and  then  told  him  the  news. 

He  looked  tenderly,  almost  reproachfully  into  her 
eyes  and  said  very  gently :  "But  that  is  not  bad  news. 


26o  :hristopher  sterling 

mother ;  it  is  good  news."  Then  with  greater  firmness  j 
"He  has  been  lifted  out  of  the  battle  and  taken  away 
from  the  horror  of  the  slaughter-house.  His  suffering 
is  over.  The  mind's  great  agony  has  ceased.  He  is 
at  peace." 

The  word  "peace"  sounded  like  a  chord  of  music. 
She  made  no  reply,  but  nodded  her  head  as  if  to  say 
that  she  understood. 

"Think,"  he  said  quietly,  "how  his  beautiful  spirit 
must  .have  suffered  on  the  battlefield.  How  often  that 
pure  heart  of  his,  so  innocent  and  so  lovely,  must  have 
cried  out  at  the  sights  he  saw,  the  pitiful  moans  which 
cried  in  his  ears.  He  bore  it  all  for  the  sake  of  his 
ideal,  but  it  wounded  his  soul.  It  hurt  him  to  the 
quick.  And  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  carnage,  hat- 
ing it,  agonizing  under  it,  but  doing  his  duty  without 
one  sign  of  fear,  suddenly  it  all  vanishes  away,  become 
as  if  it  had  never  been,  and  this  young  knight  of  Eng- 
land finds  himself  standing  among  the  knights  of  God, 
on  the  glad  hills  of  everlasting  peace.  Ah,  it  is  good 
news  you  bring  me — good,  good  news.  I  shall  go  back 
to  my  cell  to  thank  God  for  this  happiness  which  you 
have  brought  me.  For,  I  can  tell  you  now,  I  have 
often  suffered  great  grief  in  my  solitude,  thinking  of 
the  far  greater  sufferings  which  that  lovely  spirit  was 
enduring  on  the  battlefield." 

"Christopher,  my  darling,"  she  said  imploringly, 
pressing  herself  against  the  bars,  and  straining  her  eyes 
to  him,  "is  there  nothing  I  can  do  for  you — nothing 


I 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       261 


at  all?     Won't  they  let  me  do  anything  for  you?" 

The  warder,  sitting  between  them  in  the  center  cage, 
moved  on  his  chair,  and  coughed  in  a  manner  intended 
to  warn  Mrs.  Sterling  that  she  must  restrain  herself. 

''Mother,'*  said  Christopher,  "they  cannot  prevent 
you  from  praying  for  me.  Pray  often.  Pray 
earnestly." 

She  tried  to  make  him  see  her  answer  in  her  eyes. 
That  answer  was  the  surrender  of  her  spirit  to  God. 
Henceforth  she  would  pray.  Yes,  she  would  pray  with 
all  her  soul. 

He  said  to  her,  "There  will  be  a  great  work  for  us 
to  do  when  the  two  years  have  passed — many  doors  to 
be  opened,  many  walls  to  be  broken  down." 

"I  understand,  Christopher." 

WBe  smiled  at  her,  and  then  turned  to  Jane  and  began 
ask  her  questions  concerning  their  neighbors,  partic- 
ularly the  Pommers.  He  was  just  about  to  turn  to  his 
mother  again  when  he  remembered  something  more  he 
had  to  say  to  his  wife. 

*T  woke  up  this -morning,"  he  said,  "thinking  of  that 
little  bird  who  sang  so  sweetly  to  us  on  the  morning 
when  we  were  dreaming  of  our  holiday.  Is  it  still 
there?  does  it  still  sing?" 

"Yes,  Christopher." 

"Look  out  of  the  window  to-morrow  and  give  it  my 
love.  Tell  it  that  I  too  am  trying  to  sing  in  my  cage. 
I  hope  it  will  still  be  there  when  I  come  out." 

The  warder  took  out  his  watch.    Christopher  turned 


21^2  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

to  his  mother.  "Will  you  tell  my  dear  father,  with 
my  love,  that  I  often  .   ." 

"Time's  up,"  said  the  warder  in  a  sharp  voice,  and 
rose  from  his  chair. 

A  few  months  after  this  interview  Jane  received  one 
night  a  letter  with  the  familiar  postmark  of  the  prison 
town  on  the  envelope.  It  was  written  with  a  strange 
hand  and  at  sight  of  it  she  was  visited  with  a  terrible 
fear  that  Christopher  was  dead.  She  uttered  a  prayer 
to  God,  closing  her  eyes  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then, 
with  hands  that  trembled,  opened  the  envelope. 

The  letter,  which  she  could  read  only  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  and  which  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
written  by  a  very  old  man  scarcely  able  to  hold  a  pen, 
was  from  Christopher  himself.  It  told  her  that  he  was 
in  the  hospital,  and  had  been  there  for  three  weeks.  It 
consisted  of  but  a  few  lines  and  ended  with  a  postscript 
telling  her  that  it  had  taken  him  half  an  hour  to  write 
them.  "It  is  only  Body  that  is  weak,"  he  concluded, 
"Spirit  holds  out  still." 

Jane  set  out  with  this  letter  to  Portman  Square.  The 
thought  that  he  was  so  desperately  ill  and  that  the 
prison  authorities  had  told  her  nothing  about  his  illness 
was  more  even  than  her  faith  could  bear.  Such  cruelty 
seemed  to  be  inexpressibly  wicked. 

She  found  the  family  at  dinner.  Arthur  and  his 
wife  were  there,  Arthur  dressed  in  khaki  with  green 
facings.  He  had  made  things  quite  safe  for  himself 
now,  and  in  the  morning  was  starting  for  Paris  with 


r 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       263 


one  of  the  ministers — an  important  mission  full  of 
mystery. 

Jane's  news  made  them  all  very  indignant.  Arthur, 
who  now  felt  himself  to  be  of  the  Army,  declared  that 
soldiers  were  dead  against  this  senseless  treatment  of 
conscientious  objectors.  "They  ought  to  be  treated," 
he  said,  "as  political  offenders,  not  as  criminals."  His 
wife  was  equally  indignant,  but  repressed  this  indig- 
nation in  order  that  she  might  sympathize  with  Jane. 
She  took  Jane's  hand  and  held  it,  leaving  the  others 
to  talk. 

Old  Mr.  Sterling,  who  had  grown  exceedingly  shaky 
during  the  last  five  months,  said  in  a  trembling  voice 
that  he  would  have  this  thing  stopped  if  he  had  to  die 
for  it.  He  started  up  from  the  table  and  went  out  of 
the  room,  sobbing.    Mrs.  Sterling  followed  him. 

Jane  was  not  allowed  to  see  Christopher  till  the  reg- 
ulation day  for  her  visit  came  round;  worse  still,  she 
was  not  allowed  to  receive  any  tidings  of  him.  Those 
were  days  hard  to  bear  for  the  little  Quakeress. 

Mrs.  Sterling  had  now  taken  up  her  husband's  work. 
She  woke  every  morning  at  six  and  worked  till  mid- 
night, writing  to  people,  going  to  see  people,  conduct- 
ing a  campaign  of  her  own  while  she  worked  at  the 
same  time  with  others  seeking  the  same  aim  as  hers. 
The  end  of  it  was  that  the  Government  became  a  little 
alarmed.  They  did  nothing,  but  hints  were  dropped 
of  something  to  be  done  very  soon.  Mrs.  Sterling  was 
told  in  confidence,  great  confidence,  and  on  the  highest 


264  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

authority,  that  if  she  would  keep  quiet  for  a  few  weeks 
she  would  be  rewarded  by  her  son's  release;  she  was 
also  warned  that  if  she  carried  her  campaign  any  fur- 
ther the  bloodthirsty  newspapers  would  certainly  begin 
a  counter-campaign,  the  result  of  which  would  be  to 
tie  the  hands  of  the  Government. 

Old  Anthony  Sterling,  hearing  this,  exclaimed, 
"That  I  should  live  to  see  the  day  when  the  Govern- 
ment of  this  great  country  is  afraid  to  do  right — afraid 
to  do  right,  because  of  a  press  for  which  every 
educated  man  must  feel  nothing  but  an  unbounded 
contempt!  What  had  been  Gladstone's  attitude  to 
such  a  state  of  things  as  this  ?  Why,  even  that  fellow 
Stead  would  have  fired  the  country  against  such  tyr- 
anny. Either  there  is  no  leadership  in  our  statesmen 
or  no  liberalism  in  the  nation.  I  begin  to  feel  that  I 
belong  to  an  England  which  has  passed  away." 

Whether  by  secret  instructions  from  the  Government 
or  whether  because  the  prison  authorities  feared  to 
have  another  death  on  their  hands,  Christopher  was 
suddenly  released,  with  no  preparatory  warning  of  any 
kind,  a  few  days  before  Christmas,  191 7. 

He  was  taken  by  his  mother  and  his  wife  to  King's 
Standing. 

There  was  no  hope  of  his  recovery.  It  was  now  only 
a  race  between  death  and  insanity. 

One  afternoon,  lying  in  his  bed  with  his  face  turned 
to  the  windows,  against  which  a  snowstorm  was  beat- 
ing, he  said  to  his  mother,  "Some  one  long  ago  declared 


I 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       265 


that  Force  is  not  an  attribute  of  God.  I  remember 
thinking  of  that  in  prison.  I  had  no  paper  or  pencil 
to  write  down  my  ideas.  But  I  remember  now  some- 
thing about  them.  Have  you  ever  thought  what  sym- 
boHsm  there  is  in  the  unfinished  state  of  creation? 
There  are  collisions  in  the  starry  heavens.  On  earth 
there  is  roughness,  barrenness,  upheaval,  and  mon- 
strous unshapeliness.  God  might  have  made  the  world 
all  beautiful,  with  no  ugliness  anywhere,  no  violence, 
no  storms,  and  no  destruction.  But  to  do  that  He 
would  have  had  to  employ  force.  Instead  He  created 
elements,  gave  them  energies  and  direction,  and  then 
withdrew  His  hand,  leaving  the  world  to  make  itself. 
He  never  uses  force.  Isn't  that  beautiful?  ^Reason  is 
but  choosing,'  said  Milton.  We  are  free.  We  choose 
our  way.  And  then  Christ  came  into  a  world  that  was 
living  by  force,  which  employed  force  in  striving  to 
crush  the  free  spirit  of  man  into  a  mould,  and  he  said, 
Resist  not  evil,  love  your  enemies,  pray  for  them  that 
persecute  you,  love  one  another.  Truly  this  man  was 
the  Son  of  God.  Truly  he  alone  is  descended  from 
our  Creator,  the  Almighty  who  never  uses  His  al- 
mightiness." 

He  became  rapidly  worse  as  Christmas  approached, 
so  that  Mrs.  Sterling  telegraphed  to  his  brothers,  both 
of  whom  were  in  France,  and  also  to  Sibyl  in  York- 
shire. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Langton  that  he  changed 
into  mufti  before  entering  Christopher's  room,  charac- 


266  CHRISTOPHER  STERLING 

teristic  of  Arthur,  perhaps,  that  he  should  have  worn 
his  new  khaki  in  that  room — a  uniform  which  v^as  now 
brightened  by  the  ribbon  of  a  French  decoration. 

Christopher  was  too  far  gone  to  observe  these  things, 
but  on  the  last  day  of  his  life  he  put  out  his  hand  to 
Langton  and  showed  that  he  knew  him,  saying,  "You 
must  take  care  of  them," — meaning,  as  they  thought, 
his  parents. 

Mrs.  Sterling  was  watching  with  him  at  night  just 
before  the  end  came.  She  went  to  Jane,  who  was 
sleeping  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  then  went  round 
the  house  to  summon  the  others. 

They  came  into  the  room  carrying  their  candles,  and 
stood  about  the  bed  with  them  in  their  hands,  so  that 
the  deathbed  was  like  an  altar. 

He  was  dying  in  great  bodily  distress,  the  eyes 
closed,  the  teeth  set,  the  breathing  hard  and  terrible. 
Every  now  and  then  his  mother  leaned  over  him  and 
wiped  the  sweat  from  his  forehead.  The  wind  made 
a  deep  roaring  sound  in  the  chimney. 

Just  before  the  end  his  breathing  became  quiet  and 
he  ceased  to  grind  his  teeth. 

Then  he  opened  his  eyes,  looking  about  him  as  it 
were  in  astonishment. 

Some  of  the  watchers  shielded  the  candles'  flames 
with  their  hands. 

He  tried  to  lift  himself  on  his  pillow,  and  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  with  great  earnestness. 

Then  he  let  himself  slide  down  in  the  bed,  closing 


I 


THE  WONDER  THAT  REMAINED       267 


his  eyes  again,  and  said  quite  distinctly,  so  that  they 
all  heard  him,  "J^^^^^s  is  here  too — nearer  than  you 
are,  much — nearer." 

When  he  had  ceased  to  breathe,  Langton  put  his  arm 
round  Jane  and  led  her  away.  He  said  to  her  at  the 
door  of  her  room,  "Christopher  died  for  England,  and 
for  something  even  greater  than  that." 

In  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  Langton  was  dis- 
turbed by  a  noise  in  the  house,  and  getting  up  and 
lighting  his  candle  he  went  out  in  the  corridor  to  see 
what  it  was. 

A  light  was  moving  in  the  hall,  and  he  walked  to 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  standing  there  and  looking 
down.  His  mother  was  approaching  the  stair-case, 
carrying  a  lantern  and  basket  filled  with  flowers  which 
she  had  brought  from  the  greenhouse.  She  came  nearer 
and  he  saw  that  there  was  snow  on  her  hair  and  on 
her  dress. 

She  smiled,  seeing  Langton,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
"Come  and  see  him.    He  looks  so  beautiful." 

They  went  into  the  room  together,  and  stood  by  the 
deathbed,  holding  each  other's  hands  and  looking  down 
at  Christopher. 

After  a  long  time  she  said,  "What  is  it  that's  so 
wonderful  in  his  face?" 

Langton  said,  *T  think  it  is  Peace." 

THE  END 


^' 


p^^^lJf^jHP" 


4e^:os7 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


